San Fairy Ann
by Midnight Star and DragonFire
Summary: Twenty first century malaise has infected the Ministry while Voldemort's Rising immerses it in bleak chaos. The Truth is just a convenient lie and Reality is another name for illusion. The time has come to pay up- but what is the price for cheating fate?
1. Glass House

Title: San Fairy Ann 1/?  
Author name: Midnight Star  
Author email: slytherin_pureblood@yahoo.com  
Category: Romance/Drama  
Keywords: Draco, Hermione, Seventh Year, Triumvirate  
Spoilers: PS/SS, PoA, GoF  
Rating: R- for themes and innuendo  
Summary: _Twenty first century malaise has infected the Ministry while Voldemort's Rising immerses it in bleak chaos. The Truth is just a convenient lie and Reality is another name for illusion. San Fairy Ann. The time has come to pay up- but what is the price for cheating fate?_  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Author's Note: This story was previously known as 'Harry Potter and the Trident's Curse' and before that as 'Jewels in the Darkness'- it seems I just can't stick to one title! San Fairy Ann is a World War One corruption of the French phrase 'Ça ne fait rien'. It means 'It doesn't matter, why worry'.  
The first few chapters of the series have been completely rewritten, and the others are undergoing a serious overhaul. For previous fans, I hope that it is indeed better, and newbies- why the hell haven't you been reading me before?! ;) A whole busload plot changes have been made, so even if you've read it before it's worth going over again. This is almost a new fic! If you'd like to Beta for me or just talk, drop me a line! 

**San Fairy Ann**  
---  
_Behind each sociable home-loving eye  
The private massacres are taking place;  
All women, Jews, the Rich, the Human Race.  
  
The mountains cannot judge us when we lie:  
We dwell upon the earth; the earth obeys  
The intelligent and evil till they die._  
|WH Auden- Yes, we are going to suffer now|  
--- 

**01: Glass House**

_Voldemort's Headquarters during his peak of power, February 1979..._

The air was cold and damp- the stench of fear, pure and primal, hung about the castle. Moss grew hesitantly in the cracks between the dull grey flagstones. A huddle of black-robed figures moved back in a wave as their Master appeared. He was followed closely by two men, their heads bowed and properly respectful. 

Finally, one dared to break the silence. 

"My Lord...comprehension has yet to dawn upon me." Lucius Malfoy's tone had a polished veneer, even though his words expressed ignorance. 

The Dark Lord sighed contemptuously, weary at having to explain his plans yet again. "Lucius, truly- you test my patience. When a child is born, his character is already preordained. His future, his actions- they are already set by the great Three- the Triumvirate." 

"I see, my Lord." 

"Liar. Listen awhile further before hastening to your conclusion." Voldemort leaned closer, his wand dangling lazily from cold fingers. "Do you know what is in the future for your son?" His voice was soft, menacing. "He is a disgrace to the Malfoy line. He betrays his heritage. Is this your heir, Lucius?" 

"No, my Lord. My heir must be loyal only to the true master." Lucius Malfoy kept his eyes on the ground- he was a master of the game. Head bowed, eyes low, tongue flattering. "But my Lord, how have you received this knowledge?" 

"There is a Book-" Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he waved his left hand. "But that is none of your concern." 

"Of course not, your Lordship." 

"Then you will perform a simple piece of Dark Magic, the Alterius Spell. It is very much like the Imperius Curse, Lucius. The only difference is, administered soon after birth, the child will develop the traits you require in it without your bidding every time." Lord Voldemort stopped. "A loyal follower made from an errant traitor." 

"You are right as always, my Lord, I should not have doubted you even momentarily." Lucius seemed hesitant to voice the next comment, but did so regardless. This was his son, and he was not a heartless man. "Is there a chance that this may- fail?" 

The Dark Lord caressed his wand thoughtfully. "Now and then flashes of his old self may come through, but that it unimportant. There is...one slim chance. One chance that depends on such estranged circumstances that it is improbable to say the least. It shall not fail." 

A thought seemed to strike Lucius Malfoy, and he lowered his voice before speaking it out loud. "Will the Triumvirate not be...upset at this?" He said the name with an amount of reverence. The Great Triumvirate were not to be invoked in vain. 

"There are ways of repayment, Lucius. Many ways of repayment." 

"You are most masterful, my Lord." Lucius bent and reverently kissed the hem of his Masters' robes. He was not born a servant- yet better to live as one than to die an aristocrat. 

"Karkaroff, Snape! Bring the child." Ivan Karkaroff and Severus Snape bowed low and glided away silently. "What will you name the child, Lucius?" 

"Narcissa, my wife, she wishes to name him...Draco." Lucius Malfoy licked his lips. In his opinion it was an entirely unfit name for a Malfoy. There were specified traditional names for members of the Malfoy family, and tradition was not taken lightly. Officially, he himself was Lucius Tiberio Valwracen Malfoy the Seventh. He had only been placated when his wife had agreed that he would take his great-grandfather's second name. "Draco Argentus Valwracen Malfoy." 

"The Silver Dragon...and you say Narcissa named him?" Voldemort seemed thoughtful, his red eyes glowing a deeper scarlet. Not many knew the story of the unsung Narcissa Malfoy. He turned and glanced back at Snape. Wordlessly, Severus offered the helpless bundle to the Dark Lord. "Draco Argentus Valwracen Malfoy." 

He held the child uncomfortably, like an object rather than a living being. Like ceramic- as if it would break if his fingers tightened. The Dark Lord looked back at Lucius' fearful face, hastening to add to his previous explanation. "There are beings and forces much greater than us at work her, my follower. Forces that exist only at the ends of Eternity can perform the task we beg of them. Reality itself will bend to our wills tonight, Lucius- fill your heart with that. Rarely does Creation allow such changes within it's womb."

He took a ladleful of potion and tipped it into the child's mouth. A weird, yellow-green tinge spread over the tiny figure. 

"_Blood of the father, to change the son,  
  
_

_Changing the tale, before it hath begun.  
  
_

_Slytherin qualities we require,  
  
_

_Of his Masters' service must never he tire,  
  
_

_He shall value greatly purity of Blood,  
  
_

_And never associate with veins of Mud.  
  
_

_Fate release it's iron grasp,  
  
_

_Allow the new future to come to pass.  
  
_

_Triumvirate bold and powers of fate, we ask permission  
  
_

_Exact your payment, as is tradition.  
  
_

**_Alterio!_**_"_

The glow wavered slightly. Lord Voldemort leaned close to the small boy and took out his wand. He muttered a few low words and suddenly it seemed like the child was on fire. A blinding yellow haze shone from him, it subsided a little and Lucius Malfoy watched with awe. 

Outwardly, there was absolutely no change. From the gleam of triumph in his Master's eye, Lucius guessed that the Spell had worked. Only time would tell. 

The Dark Lord's reddish eyes were awash with confusion for one brief moment before comprehension dawned on him- Voldemort smiled. 

--- 

|| _October 30th 1997: The Slytherin Common Room_

Draco Malfoy shrugged deeper into the crushed green velvet chair. The blazing fire afforded him no warmth, for the coldness he felt was not physical. The virulent green decor seemed to hurt his eyes. A vein throbbed in his temple, purple-blue through his pale white skin. 

It felt like some shadowy figure was throttling him, pulling the very life out of him...and as it came closer as the feeling intensified. A wave of hatred passed over him like an icy tsunami, burying him by it's very brute strength. His throat constricted, a feeling of nausea rising in the depths of his stomach. Bits of life flashed past him like jigsaw pieces all out of order. He saw a pale boy identical to him with a cold sneer on his face- the scene whirled out of focus until he saw the image of a dark-clad figure surrounded by others, muttering enchantments over the head of a baby. His vision was tainted emerald as he heard his own distinctive voice speaking the dreaded two words...and the endless, hollow laughter. The shadow-figure lowered his head and clamped it's rotting mouth to his, sucking out his emotions until all that was left was all-consuming self loathing. His eyes opened with startled quickness, breath coming to him in short gasps. Slowly he caressed his lips, running slender fingers over the unbruised skin. 

_Another nightmare about the Dementors..._

Draco went over the visions he had seen, allowing a puzzled look to cross his features. Were they images of his future? The boy could not understand the intense fear and hatred that he had felt on watching himself commit these acts. He did not hate himself, he did not fear the Avada Kedavra...he did not dislike his attitude. It was always the same nightmare, it had been recurring ever since the Dementors had entered into his compartment on the train a few years previously. He had experienced the same visions then, and had been just as at a loss. For some reason, he had gone running to the Weasley Twins' compartment. _It was a mistake._ He could not convince himself, he had gone to them for a reason. 

Draco shook his head and pulled the blanket around him tightly. He didn't understand what was happening to him. _There's a history of madness in the family- Uncle Marcus is in St Mungos...maybe I'm going mad?_

A cold laugh fell from his lips at the absurdity of that thought. He was anything but insane. Draco paused for a moment, wondering what his father would have him do. _It's time to find out what this is all about._

--- 

|| _An hour later: The Hogwarts Library_

"By Gryffindor's great sword!" Hermione Granger cursed, muttering an erasure spell yet again. Her Arithmancy was just not coming right, she knew she was going wrong somewhere in the potions aspect. This particular equation had to do with the lunar phases of the moon in conjunction with Mars, related to the life cycle of the flaming sparkbug. Despite all her talent, she just couldn't get it right. She had felt so distracted of late, ever since she had broken up with Viktor Krum. 

There were muffled footsteps approaching behind the shelf in front of her, and Hermione could hear someone muttering expletives. "Could you keep it down, it _is_ a libr-" Draco Malfoy stopped in his tracks, an expression of distasteful annoyance on the pixie-like features. "Oh, it's _you_." 

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she put down her quill with a click. "Oh my, the great Draco Malfoy is actually in the library. What's the matter, Draco? Daddy can't fix your grades anymore?" 

"I would hit you, but _I've_ been brought up better." The boy's cheeks flushed slightly, but there was no change in the unhurried drawl. He glanced over at what she had been trying to do. "Having trouble with your homework, Granger?" 

It was her turn to flush, redness spreading up her cheeks and down her neck. "What's it to you?" 

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Draco turned, running his fingers through his hair. He stopped midstride, a thought striking him. _Father always said that it was the end and not the means._ With slow deliberateness, he walked over to her. "Listen up, Granger- I'll make you a deal." 

"Bugger off, Malfoy." 

"It could be mutually beneficial..." Draco let the sentence hang, continuing hurriedly when he received no response. "Unless, of course, you want to fail at applied Arithmancy? Tch...and I thought you were the _smart_ one, too..." He made a pretense of walking away, keeping his speed slow. 

"Malfoy- wait!" 

Draco smiled, ignoring the look of disgusted defeat on Hermione's face and sitting down next to her. "Here it is- I need some help with some research. Some discreet research. I know you're good at that-" At the surprised look she gave him he shrugged. "Just because I dislike you doesn't mean I think you're an idiot. Father always said, never underestimate your en-" He stopped, realising that it was a most inappropriate thing to say. "-fellow folk. Anyway. In return I'll help you with your Arithmancic hiccups." 

"You don't _take_ Advanced Arithmancy- how in Magic's name can you help me?" Hermione was suspicious, her eyes glancing around for any intruders. _Whatever would Harry and Ron say if they saw me talking to Malfoy?_

"Just because I'm not taking it, doesn't mean I can't do it. So are you in or not?" He flashed a disconcertingly suave smile, showing that he could be charming if he needed to be. 

Hermione was slightly thrown by the different treatment from him, pausing to collect her thoughts. "What's the research on?" 

"Dementors." 

--- 

|| _November 29th: The Hogwarts Library_

"Right, so what you do is, you swap the point of conjunction with the variable 'q' and insert it into Madrowski's Planetary Theorem and use the answer as your base calculating point for the stellar positions." 

Draco Malfoy's fingers clutched the pencil tightly as it moved with fluid ease over the paper. He had been leaning over Hermione's shoulder, and had to brush strands of her brown hair from his black robes after he straightened. Her expression of incomprehension melded into sudden understanding as she smiled. It made her look worlds different, that smile. 

"Thanks, Malfoy." Hermione said, sounding truly grateful. She looked up at him, her large eyes questioning. "Why don't you take Arithmancy- I mean, you're so good at it." 

"It's not important." 

Hermione made a disgusted noise and raised one eyebrow. "And where did you get _that_ idiotic idea?" 

Draco's pale cheeks coloured. "Father." He said shortly, sitting down and edging away from her. 

"Oh- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." 

"You did." He waved it away with a haughty gesture. "It doesn't matter. Father says that Arithmancy has no practical value for the future. He's very aware of the future." 

Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought that she could detect a trace of mockery in his tone. Still, she felt it was best to change the subject. "Anyway, I've done all that research on Dementors you asked for- along with the, uh, _special_ conditions." 

"And?" The gleam in his eye bespoke of something more than mere academic involvement. It was the first time she had seen his stony countenance come alive. 

"There are a whole lot of possibilities for seeing visions of the self, except in a different light, under the influence of Dementors." Her voice took on a brisk, professional timbre. "The first being, of course, that the Dementors bring out the subconscious. It is a little known fact that Dementors were originally created by Mortragen Daemersgrale, otherwise known as the Sorceror. He created them not to leech emotion, rather to peel back all the layers of the psyche- his followers had to pass the Dementor test which revealed everything about their true self before they could become part of the inner circle. The Kiss was administered to those who failed." Hermione repressed a shudder at such brutality. "That means the visions are the truth of what you think subconsciously." 

Draco gave a dry laugh, not catching the fact that Hermione had realised that the research was about himself. "Madness. There has to be another explanation." 

"There are loads." She said, crossly. "I was just giving you the most probable one." 

"Sorry- I was just saying that that's not it." He quickly amended his mistake, mollifying her somewhat. It had been an entire month and Draco had come to know and fear Hermione's stubborn streak. "Trust me." 

"Trust a _Slytherin_?" Hermione snorted derisively, her eyebrow raised. "Give me a reason." 

"Oh, for the Fate's sakes!" He expostulated, a grimace twisting his elfin features. "Just because I played pranks on your beloved Potter when I was in my Fourth year you assume that I still might? He isn't my favourite person, but why the bloody hell should I go looking for trouble? Face it, Hermione- we're all grown up and we're in our Seventh year. Back then, I was the immature one. Now _you_ need to grow up- Slytherin and Gryffindor aren't who we are." Draco's face was flushed from such a long speech, and Hermione could see his knuckles whiten. "Just because I don't fawn over you and inquire how your family's doing when I see you in the hallway doesn't mean that I'm just waiting for a chance to back-knife you." 

"I'm s-sorry. I just said what came to mind." She stammered out, a little ashamed of herself. What Draco said was quite true- there had been no more Slytherin-Gryffindor pranks and rivalry had been reserved for Quidditch. They _were_ in their seventh year. "It's a new experience, having a civil conversation with you." 

"Oh, and it's just ever-so-usual for me." Draco drawled sarcastically, crossing his arms. "I'm _always_ having fluffy little snippets of talk with MudBlood Gryffs. Look- we're here 'cause we had a deal, and father always said 'Keep business, business'. So I won't take it badly if you don't say hello in the hallway, but any more Slytherin jibes and I _will_ hex you." There was the ghost of a twinkle in his eye, but Hermione wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Something told her that if she pushed him, he would most surely shove back. 

A movement behind the shelves indicated that someone had heard the last part of Malfoy's statement. Dean Thomas emerged with a concerned expression on his face. "Hermie- is he bothering you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the fact that his girlfriend and Draco Malfoy were seated at the same table. Despite being a Slytherin, Malfoy had an annoyingly long record of stealing other boy's girlfriends...of every house. And there was also the fact that Lavender had so recently left him for Harry. 

"Dean!" She flushed a little in surprise, having not told him about their arrangement. "No, he's not bothering me." She chuckled at the suspicious look on his face and tilted her head. "Really, I'm fine- just doing some Arithmancy." 

"What's the matter, Thomas? Jealous?" 

Dean deigned not to answer. "Okay. I'll see you upstairs later, Hermie." With a warning glance at Malfoy, Dean kissed Hermione rather pointedly and left. 

"Well, well, isn't your lovey a regular Othello?" He murmured, not really expecting Hermione to catch his reference to how Othello falsely suspected his wife of being unfaithful and killed her out of jealousy. 

Hermione was quite well-versed with Shakespeare and raised one eyebrow. "Oh please- Dean is no modern day moor. He's just afraid of a Lavender-repeat." 

"That's right- Harry cuckolded him good with Lavvie, didn't he?" Draco mused. "I didn't expect it of Red and Gold boy." 

"He didn't steal her." 

Draco looked up with an expression of feigned pity. "Oh yes, you _always_ stick up for your friends, don't you? Look, I'm heading back to the Dormitory- I don't fancy my name being bandied about in romantic conjunction with yours." 

"What do you mean!" 

"Oh, puh-lease. Your sweet Deanie's probably told the entire Gryffindor house about seeing you within ten feet of me and at dinner the entire school is going to know. Good luck, Granger, but I'm not hanging around to reinforce the rumours." 

--- 

|| _Dinnertime: The Great Hall_

Hermione tried to eat her lamb chop in peace, ignoring the whispering voices all around her. Finally, it was just too much. "He was helping me with my Arithmancy!" She yelled, clear enough for the entire Gryffindor table to hear her. "That's right- he's better at Arithmancy than I am and he was helping me out. Are you happy now?" Blushing with embarrassment and anger, Hermione stood up and walked out of the Great Hall. 

Chatter resumed slowly, as Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "She was getting help from _Malfoy_?" 

"Git." Ron mumbled, looking over to the Slytherin table. "He's not at dinner." 

"Maybe we should check up- it's probably some Slytherin trick. You know how trusting Hermione is." Harry whispered, irritated at Malfoy for no definable reason. "Anyway, at least that explains where she's been in the evenings." 

"_Malfoy_." The lanky redhead shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, you don't think that they're actually....you know-" 

"Snogging, going out, making it?" Harry laughed. "Nah, Hermione's not an idiot, Ron. She's a Gryffindor and he's a Slytherin. It just doesn't work. Besides, she seems to like Dean a lot." 

"Right." Ron rolled his eyes just the way Lavender did. He turned back to the Slytherin table and caught a flash of long golden hair as Sycorax Lestrange held the entire Slytherin table's attention. It wasn't hard to imagine why- she was easily the most beautiful girl in school and the cause for many jealousies since she had transferred from Durmstrang in her fifth year. "Wish I could hear what they're saying…" Ron muttered, trying not to stare at her.. 

The Slytherins wished no such thing. Sycorax smirked lazily, her perfect features taking on an a sensuously malevolent look. "Why it's utter silliness. Draco probably needed something from the MudBlood- despite her rather _obvious_ physical shortcomings she is disgustingly proficient with magic." The others nodded their agreement at her mellifluous tones. "Besides, who in their right mind would choose _her_ over _me_?" 

Sycorax's little barb was rewarded by a round of laughter. While Hermione Granger was not ugly by a long shot, Sycorax's unearthly beauty was definitely out of her league. It was a heated controversy within the Slytherin commons who was more beautiful- Sycorax Lestrange or her cousin, Fleur Delacour. Draco, who had dated both, had remained carefully impartial since he was currently dating Sycorax. It was common knowledge that Fleur did not get along with any of her cousins, even though the Ophelia Lestrange, Sycorax's elder sister, had powerful contacts in the Dark side and Blaise McAllistair, her only male cousin, was the guitarist of the hottest new Wizarding band- Violet Fire. 

With fluid Veela grace, she lifted herself from her seat. "I'm going to go talk to Draco. Give us a little time, eh?" She winked, her question toned more like a statement. Pansy Parkinson glowered a little, but there was a general bustle of agreement. Sycorax undulated off in the direction of the Slytherin common room as the other boys stared rather wistfully at her departing figure. 

She turned a corner and barely avoided bumping into a similarly tall girl. "Watch yourself!" Sycorax hissed, looking up and meeting annoyed brown eyes. "Well, well. Hermione Granger." 

"Her-my-oh-nee." 

"Whatever." The witch dismissed it with a graceful wave of her hand and Hermione was once more struck with how distastefully alike the cousins were. "Anyway, it is good that I saw you." 

"You don't say?" Hermione's hand was on her wand, just in case the Slytherin tried something. 

"Oh, indeed." Sycorax reached out her hand and tightened her fingers around a twist of Hermione's robe, pulling the girl towards her roughly. "Listen carefully, MudBlood. I've kept my boyfriend through Pansy Parkinson, one of the Weird Sisters, Parthenope Czyren and Fleur Delacour. Fleur tried me and ended up having to carry that gorgeous hair of hers home in a bag. And she was my cousin. Don't get any ideas or you might end up a little, shall we say...missing, the neck up." She made a slicing motion over Hermione's neck with her finger and smiled slowly. "Your powers are measly compared to those who have tangled with me and lost." That done, she shoved Hermione against the wall with surprising strength and walked on. 

Hermione watched her leave with an expression of surprise on her features. Her back ached a little from where she had been thrust against the wall and she could feel a trace of warm blood just below her collarbone where the Slytherin's nails had scratched her skin. The girl had been quite effective in scaring her, Hermione's heart was beating much faster than normal. Wincing, she pulled herself to her feet and straightened up her robes. Slowly, the surprise melted into amusement at the fact that Sycorax had taken her seriously enough to expend all that energy...especially when there was absolutely nothing going on. 

"_Domus Serpentia_." Sycorax muttered the password- House of the Snake- and pulled herself into the common room. Draco was sitting by the fire, in his favourite velvet-upholstered chair. She glided over to him and folded gracefully into his lap, her arms around his neck. "Hello, darling..." Her grey-blue eyes sparkled brilliantly. 

Draco didn't even looked surprised, he simply reached out and traced her cheek. "Why, hello there, beautiful." He whispered, leaning forward and capturing her mouth with his. The vehemence of his kiss surprised the both of them, and she drew away with an expression of satisfaction. The kiss had obviously been genuine enough. 

"I knew there was no truth to it!" She exclaimed, running her fingers through his silky hair. "I am infinitely better suited for you than Granger could ever be!" 

"My dear Sycorax, the question never entered my mind." Draco pulled himself higher and kissed her neck, moving upwards and finding her mouth once more. "I doubt Granger is as good you at this." He mumbled against her lips, crushing them with his own as his hand pulled aside her Hogwarts robe to expose the bare skin of her leg. 

Sycorax pulled out her wand and raised her hand above the chair, aiming towards the door. "_Atrium Nix_." She locked the door magically and turned back to Draco with a sensuous grin. She unclasped his robes and caressed his chest, moving lower down with her slender fingers. "Give me fifteen minutes and I can show you something else that I'm better than Granger at..." 

---  
|| _November 30th: History of Magic Classroom_

Draco strode into the classroom five minutes early, glad that he had managed to ditch Goyle. In his haste to get away from Granger the previous evening, it had slipped his mind to get her research on Dementors. Bending underneath her desk, he fixed a note underneath it with a spell that made sure only Hermione could remove it. That was the good thing about being in Seventh year, classes were no longer split House-wise because only few people took each subject. That done, he settled back into his seat as the class filtered in, looking as innocent as a Hufflepuff first-year. Draco noticed Hermione give him a glance as she entered, but made no move to talk to him, sitting between Sylvoren Trelawney and Dean Thomas since neither Harry nor Ron took the class. Sycorax Lestrange slid in next to him with a smile as Goyle found his familiar places behind his own. 

"Settle down, everyone." Professor Alex "Skidmarks" Ramsey, who had taken up the post ever since Professor Binns had decided to quit his job and opt for the quieter life, walked in. As usual, he was dressed in a loose pastel blue robe which he wore open, ostensibly to display his Muggle clothing. That consisted of a t-shirt with 'Skidmarks Ramsey, no 1-2001 BroomRacing Championships' printed in bright blue and the image of a Firebolt racing broom right below. Privately, Harry thought of him as Gilderoy Lockhart the Second, and the retired racer certainly had the female fan following to prove it. "Today will be revision for the upcoming NEWTS. I trust that everyone is studying hard." 

There were a few nods and yes's from both sides as the Professor smiled, displaying his row of what Hermione swore were celluloid teeth. He was a different from Binns- for one, Alex Ramsey was very much alive. 

"Okay, Miss Lestrange, why don't you tell me about non-human magical peoples from the ancient to modern times?" 

Sycorax did not look amused her grey-flecked eyes narrowing slightly. "I find it offensive that you chose me just because I have a Veela grandmother and do not have as human blood as yourself." 

"Oh, Miss Lestrange, magic forbid. I simply believed that you would be more well versed in the matter and more capable of giving the class an interesting lecture. One with a few more words and a lot less stuttering." Ramsey could not help a glance at Neville Longbottom, who had completely dissolved when he had asked him to summarise the Goblin wars the previous class. 

The girl shook out her blonde hair and smiled, seemingly pacified. "Very well. In the middle ages, Wizards were a secretive community, living in hiding. It was in these times that Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts were created and flourished. Due to anti-Magic feelings on the part of the Muggles, all magical creatures came together. Elves, trolls, Veela, werefolk, vampires, erivalli, goblins and dwarfs walked hand in hand with humans. Codes about violence towards humans applied to non-human magical creatures as well. Soon, human knowledge of magic grew less and more abstract. Finally came the age of technology, and people stopped believing in magic. The Dilution effect started seriously affecting magic. To compensate, human Wizards began interbreeding with the Muggles. Soon, Wizardkind stopped living in shadow, and instead started living in Muggle areas and settlements using cover stories. Other Magical creatures could not follow, as many could be easily identified as nonhuman. The races grew apart during the late 1800's and early 1900's and bigotry kicked into high gear. Then, the Dark Lo- I mean, You-Know-Who-" Sycorax corrected herself with a shake of her pert head. 

"-he rose, and magical creatures were divided. Elves faded into the background, retreating to their native Unplottable forests and glades. The werefolk, trolls, giants and some Veela sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because they were tired of the inter-magical bigotry the humans practiced. The Dwarves decided to remain impartial, as did the empathic Erivalli- both took sanctuary in their native homes." Her notes were open in front of her and she glanced down at them every now and then as the others in her class scribbled her words down furiously. The treatment of non-magical creatures was the only thing she actually felt passionate about and Ramsey knew she was extremely adept at making their case. "The last Erivalli sighting was in 1894. Because the only Magical creatures who weren't impartial were in the service of the Dark Lord, the Code of Wand Use was amended in 1953. Clause three now reads '_No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand_'." Sycorax paused to take a deep breath and looked around to make sure everyone was listening. 

"Due to their dual nature, werefolk were officially exempt from the rule. However, the Ministry encouraged the Magical schools to refuse admission to their kind. Hogwarts, I am glad to say, has not completely closed it's doors, as the case of Mr. Remus Lupin last year shows." She mentioned her step-uncle with a smile, despite the fact that he was a bit of a Muggle sympathiser. "After the defeat of You-Know-Who by my classmate, Mr. Potter, in 1981, the entire structure of the his army crumbled and created varied social problems. The Veela returned to their native Brazil and have been discouraged from breeding- to the point where there are only sixteen pureblooded Veela left. Werewolves have once again been shunned, and they are receiving no aid whatsoever from the ministry. The trolls joined the goblins and began the extremely lucrative banking business- the largest endeavour is Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Vampires simply faded away, and apart from the occasional sighting or bloodless corpse, we have seen nothing of them." Sycorax finished with a flourish as her spell over the class was broken. 

"Well, Miss Lestrange, thankyou for that extremely informative session." Professor Ramsey spoke a little distractedly. "Ah- homework. A foot of parchment detailing your veiw on the amendment of the Code of Wand Use. Be prepared to defend yourself next class- we'll be having a debate." The bell rang shrilly in the distance. "Dismissed!" 

---  
||_11pm November 30th: Abandoned Transfiguration Classroom_

"Malfoy?" Hermione was unsure whether she should light her wand, hugging her school bag close. She strained her eyes in the darkness, trying to discern any shape. 

There was a glint of light on iridescent blond hair and Draco slid out from behind a musty desk. "The one and only." He drew out his wand with an enviably quick flick of his fingers. "_Lumos_. Glad you could make it." 

"Oh yes, very glad. If nothing _else_ will convince the school that we're not running mates in a snog marathon, sneaking around in a deserted classroom will. Why don't we just run up to the Astronomy tower and stick neon signs on our clothes?" 

Draco resisted the impulse to smile at the sarcasm in her tone and the way her lip trembled when she was angry. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you. And I am _not_ meeting you in the library any more." 

"Whyever not? We're in a study group. By avoiding each other we'll just look awfully guilty." 

"Because-" _If Goyle tells my father then I'm screwed_ "-this is Hogwarts, Granger. Rita Skeeter's column is truthful and unbiased compared to the rumours that spread around here. As I'm _sure_ you know." He subtly implied her experience during Third Year, where everyone had believed that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. A fact which, in Draco's opinion, was utterly laughable. "Anyway, my girlfriend's the jealous type and I'd like to keep her pleased, if you know what I mean." 

Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's slow smile- Sycorax Lestrange wasn't exactly on her favourite persons list. "Anyway, what did you want?" 

"I never got around to getting that research about Dementors from you." He drew out a chair and motioned for Hermione to seat herself, slipping in beside her. 

"_Hygenium_." Hermione muttered, cleaning the table to spotlessness. 

"Nice spell." Draco extended his hand slightly so that she was included in the halo of light his wand was casting. Almost unconsciously, he noted that she was wearing a pastel dressing gown over a cotton nightdress. Despite being physically mature, somehow she had an air of innocent naiveté that Draco found quaint- it was like the horrors of the world had somehow left her untouched. _As if His Rising could leave anyone unscathed._

She nodded and patted the bag she had been carrying. "I have it in here." She leaned down and unclasped the hooks, placing a few sheaves of parchment on the desk and rummaging around for something else. Draco glanced over the research- it was all hand written in her own distinctively even hand. With a sigh, Hermione straightened up, the sleeve of her dressing gown slipping off her left shoulder. 

"How did you hurt yourself?" Observant grey eyes had noticed the raw scratch mark just below her collarbone. It was quite obvious to him that someone had scratched her, there were distinctive fingernail bruises around the wound. But then again, some people liked that sort of thing...though from his estimation they were female. _Doesn't mean that it's forced. Maybe she and some other Gryff girlie are having a bit of rough and tumble every now and then- you never know..._. 

A smile curled on his lips at that particular thought, and Hermione chose to interpret it as an affirmation of his knowing about the incident. "Well, I never!" She stood up, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting in the dim light. "Don't you have _any_ decency in there?" 

"What?" Draco asked, surprised by her sudden flare of anger but refusing to show it. 

"I should have known this was all a sleazy Slytherin way for you to get off!" 

Now Draco was thoroughly befuddled. He sleeked his hair back with one hand and regarded her levelly from his chair. "What the bloody hell are you on about?" 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and clutched her wand tightly, looking on the verge of giving him a nasty hex. "Stop pretending- go ask the wonderful Miss Lestrange if you don't know. And you can forget about getting your research!" With a sniff of indignation, she turned and flounced out of the room, leaving behind a very confused eighteen year old. 

---  
||_December 1st: The Slytherin Common Room_

"Sycorax?" 

With a pert nod of dismissal to the young girl she had been speaking with, Sycorax turned towards Draco. "Good morning." She whispered, managing to make even that innocent greeting sound like an invitation to dalliance. 

"I need to speak with you." He took her arm and pulled her towards a quieter corner of the common room a little roughly. 

"Don't." Her tone was clipped and firm as she pulled her wrist out of Draco's grasp. "What do you want?" The soft allure in her manner was gone, Sycorax was too annoyed to pretend. Besides, if he didn't want her for _that_, then she had no clue what else he could possibly desire. 

"Did you do something to the MudBlood?" 

"Which one?" 

He repressed a sigh, disliking the snap to her tone. "The Granger one, genius." 

"No." 

Draco crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes moving down to her hands. There were telltale bruises on her delicate Veela skin which said she had been up to something rough of late- and Draco knew that he certainly hadn't done anything to cause the purpling on her _fingers_. "I can see the bruises on your hands...don't lie to me." 

"What do you care?" 

Draco took her by the wrist again. "She has some research that I need. And she's not going to give it to be if you go shoving her around." 

The expression on Sycorax's face would have made a less arrogant man quail. "Get someone else to do it for you." 

"Granger's the best at this kind of thing." His voice was low and warning as he pulled her closer. "And _I_ say I want her research. Are you questioning me?" 

"By the hair from the head of my grandmother! They're right...you _do_ have feelings for her." 

In the rush of one moment, Draco realised what a delicate glass house his life was. Everything could collapse if he made one wrong move or allowed a single crack to grow. A glass house, so perfect and sparkling that if he pretended it could almost seem like there was no barrier between himself and everything else. Sooner or later the windows would stop sparkling and grow opaque and the illusion would be that much harder to keep up. But he was the king of pretend, and illusion was just as real as reality...only not. 

"Don't be annoying, Raxie...she's doing an important job for me." 

She tried to pull out of his grasp only to find he was holding her tighter than she had thought. "My name is Sycorax, not Raxie." 

"_Do I look like I care?_" Draco hissed, twisting a lock of her beautiful gold hair. He leaned closer, locking eyes with her. "I don't take any bullshit from anyone, Sycorax. I've been indulgent with you, but don't think I'd hesitate to open your eyes if you flout my authority. Your beauty is pleasing, but we Malfoys are not slaves to it as others are." He jerked her hair and she let out a soft cry of pain. 

"You're hurting me, Draco..." She sounded like she was giving him a reminder rather than pleading. 

He released her and smoothed his hair back. As usual, everyone was pretending that they hadn't seen a thing. Draco took a deep breath and quickly regained his cool. "I apologise." _It wouldn't do for her to run and tell father, now would it?_ He could almost _hear_ the lesson on chivalry that Lucius would be sure to give him. "Try not to try my patience so, Sycorax." 

The Veela-blooded girl was as gracious in victory as she was in defeat. "I shall not venture near Granger. I hope this pleases you?" She asked, gently tending her frayed lock of hair. She seemed to have forgiven him, but there was a hard edge to her eyes that told Draco otherwise. 

"Indeed it does." With a small nod of his head he gave her tacit permission to leave. He watched Sycorax go, wondering whether she was his greatest triumph or most horrendous mistake. 

Sycorax Lestrange was exactly the kind of girl that would throw stones at her own glass house just to watch it shatter. 

---  
--- 

_Coming up: Does Draco ever get that research? A reconciliation between our favourite not-quite-a-couple Draco and Hermione, and a bit of an altercation courtesy of the beautiful Sycorax Lestrange. Prophetic dreams haunt Sylvoren Trelawney and the season first Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match comes to an unexpected conclusion as preparations are being made for the Yule Ball._


	2. Sleepnow

Title: San Fairy Ann 2/?  
Author name: Midnight Star  
Author email: slytherin_pureblood@yahoo.com  
Category: Romance/Drama  
Keywords: Draco, Hermione, Seventh Year,   
Spoilers: PS/SS, PoA, GoF  
Rating: R- for themes and innuendo  
Summary: _Twenty first century malaise has infected the Ministry while Voldemort's Rising immerses it in bleak chaos. The Truth is just a convenient lie and Reality is another name for illusion. San Fairy Ann. The time has come to pay up- but what is the price for cheating fate?  
The Story So Far- Dean sees Draco and Hermione together in the library and tells the entire school. Sycorax confronts Hermione, who thinks Draco put his girlfriend up to it and refuses to give him the Dementor research he wants. Harry and Ron debate whether to 'have a talk' with Malfoy. Draco in turn has a talk with Sycorax, making no bones about the fact that he wants Hermione left alone.   
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Author's Note: Some answers to things reviewers have asked me. The dates in chapter 01 were calculated on the assumption that Harry was born in 1987. This has been changed to reflect what JKR has told us. Chapter 01 will be updated when I have the time.  
The name Sycorax is pronounced 'sick-oh-racks' or 'psycho-racks' ***ignores the jokes***, and is stolen from Shakespeare ((all hail)). Sylvoren Trelawney is a Gryffindor, and the great ((coughFAKEcough)) Sybil Trelawney's daughter. More on her in this fic! Skidmarks is named and very slightly based after Tremayne Ramsey, the main character in the movie 'Futuresport'.  
I've changed the format a little bit- hopefully it's easier to understand.  
This Chapter is dedicated to Undefined, my amazing BETA reader and Tiamat. *hands cookies to both*_

**San Fairy Ann  
_Well I woke up in mid-afternoon 'cause that's when it all hurts the most _**

_I dream I never know anyone at the party and I'm always the host _

_If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts _

_You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast. _

_Well, I am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame _

_I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame _

_If you've never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame _

_And though I'll never forget your face, _

_sometimes I can't remember my name. _

Mrs Potter's Lullaby, Counting Crows

**02: Sleepnow**

_4.12.1997, Thursday 04:00  
Gryffindor Girls dormitory, Hogwarts_

Sylvoren Trelawney woke with a start, brushing the sweat from her hairline with her bony fingers. She was not fully awake, her mind still in the hazy realm between dreams and reality. Flashes of the future played behind her half-closed eyelids as she drew her breath raggedly, clutching her throbbing forehead. Her vision focussed into a huge library, concentrating onto a gilt-edged table with a thick tome spread out on its surface. The cover was a deep, burnished brown and the edges were worn with use. It looked as old as time itself. The pages turned before her eyes until one was chosen and the glimmering words came clear.

_The price for cheating Fate is dear-_

_As time rolls on, all will come clear._

_The soul rebels against its bind_

_And the plans of the master slow unwind._

_The battle will be hastened sure,_

_The War of the mired and the pure._

_Righteousness to neither belongs_

_In quest for good are done many wrongs._

_The soul must sacrifice more than life_

_The Trident are appeased only by strife._

_Blood of the old shall replenish the new_

_Blood of many for the gain of a few._

Her fingers reached for the parchment she kept rolled under her pillow, and she scratched down the words before they disappeared. Visions of the future were ephemeral events, fleeting and difficult to grasp, but Sylvoren had much experience in the ways of the Inner Eye, and her sight was clearer than most. The vision faded and the Seer pushed the parchment back underneath her pillow. Her head ached with the effort, and she knew that she would not dream at all for the next few days. It would be a welcome relief from the chaotic vagaries of the future that haunted her somnolence.

Yet she was not the only one dreaming that night.

_A ghost of a smile- almost a smirk- lingered on his features. His hand clutched hers, both pale and clammy. He was barely there, and even through the choking veil of half death she felt the insubstantiality of his slender fingers._

_"My darling," he had whispered, looking deep into her brown eyes. Soon, she couldn't see the world behind him- he was becoming more real. "We have to do this."_

_Ginny felt a tear roll down her cheek as an unbearable coldness wrapped itself around her and she convulsed in a shiver. She knew her lips were tinged with blue. It was just so cold- so hard to think...but him being there was wonderful. Nostalgia flavoured the memory with a subtle sweetness._

_"Just sleep now, dear."_

it is afterwards  
and you talk on tiptoe __

_Her lips cracked open as she tried to speak, the only sound emerging the guttural gasps of death. "Tom- please..." Please what? She did not know. She could not know. He was her entire world and she would find no solace._

_"My darling- death is but the next great adventure." His voice was hoarse, faintly mocking as he repeated Albus Dumbledore's words to him from so many years ago. "We will triumph together. I will make them believe."_

_"Believe what?" She tightened her grip around him, sensing that he was about to leave._

_"That you are nothing. That you were an innocent waif led astray by my dark wiles." How many people knew the truth of Virginia Weasley? How many would strangle roosters and murder cats simply because someone had asked? How many would bloody their hands so vilely? How many found the kind of love at twelve that romantics dream of for lifetimes? Not many. Yet nobody questioned her simply because she said she didn't remember. That was their most blatant flaw- their faith in the intrinsic goodness of humanity. "That you were with them- that you were with those muggle-loving fools that worship Dumbledore and lead the Wizarding race to destruction." _

happy to be part  
of the darkness __

_The beating of her heart slowed as his raced. "Don't leave me..." _

_"I will never leave you, Ginger." She managed to smile as he used his special nickname for her. He made her special- he treated her like a glass princess out of some medieval fairy tale. His green eyes looked within her, melting her. "You are my heart- and a man cannot live without his heart."_

_"I'm dying."_

_"It is temporary." He bent and kissed her eyelids. "Once I am back in power and have saved the wizarding race from their self-destruction, I will bring you back. I swear it."_

_"I love you." They were the last words that she could choke out before a deep, hungry blackness swallowed her whole._

_At the edge of her consciousness, she knew another person had entered. There were words...and more than that. But the cold- the cold that twisted around her being like a cobra Dementor...the acrid taste of Dark Magic still lingered on her tongue._

lips becoming limp  
a prelude to tiredness __

_Like a silken cloak, the darkness slipped off her. In its place was a gently healing sensation- and the taste of Dark Magic changed to the taste of failure, sweetly bitter on her tongue. They had failed- Tom had failed. Another icy tear fell from her eye. Her Tom had failed. A sudden spark of gladness that she would not have to endure the test of death was quashed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. He'd loved her- he had trusted her. She loved him too- and yet she was glad at his downfall? It was a test of their union- did she not think their love powerful enough? Silly, foolish little girl._

Comeclose and Sleepnow  
for in the morning  
when a policeman disguised as the sun  
creeps into your room __

_Arms wrapped themselves around her protectively, her skin burning at their touch. Tom's essence still coursed through her like inky poison. For a moment, she felt Tom's potential- his obvious power. The person who had touched her lay before her like an open book- every thought, feeling, emotion- so painfully obvious. It lay quivering before her, so vulnerable and defenseless. Ginny recoiled as her mind melded with his too- it was fearsome enough feeling Tom in her veins...but another as well? Conflict surged through her like searing fire. She shuddered but was too weak to pull away._

and your mother  
disguised as birds  
calls from the trees__

_Her eyes flickered open and she tightened her grasp on her rescuer with with joy. It was him! "Tom," she mumbled, a sudden happiness flooding through her. The tousle-haired boy turned towards her and smiled without the intensity and ardour of Tom's smile and Ginny choked. His eyes were different; Tom's eyes epitomized him- beautiful, haunted, powerful- yet this boy's eyes held honour and friendship and but a fraction of the pain in Tom's eyes. It horrified her- to see his look in Tom's face- to see such a silly smile on lips that had whispered the world to her._

you will put on a dress of guilt  
and shoes with broken high ideals__

_"Harry." Her voice was firmer now, but he didn't hear her. What was the use? She allowed her head to roll to one side in defeat. There was no use now. Everything had come apart and she could do nothing. Without Tom she was just a Hogwarts first-year, doomed to follow the path of correctness. Doomed to smile forever. Like a dress-shop mannequin. Ginny's face was blank, but her soul twisted and tore. A Dementor could do no more damage. She closed her eyes and allowed the pain of despair to overwhelm her. How bitter it tasted- her tongue had been rubbed on the lemon rind of failure. It was a taste not to be forgotten. Tom would have told her to learn from the experience, to seize it- command it. Ride the wave rather than buckle underneath its force. Tears formed in her eyes, crawling down her pale cheek till the deep blackness of her Hogwarts robes swallowed them. She was not strong enough. _

and refusing coffee  
run  
all the way  
home. __

_Her family- she could see their concerned expressions but could not summon the will to care. She was still stained from Tom Riddle's touch. With all the finesse of a polished actress, she smiled wanly and protested her well being. It was not as if they cared anyway. Could they see the guilt in her eyes? It was not guilt for betraying them- it was guilt for failing Tom. Yet they could not know. Could they fathom how meaningless life would be for her now that she had tasted the heady potion of truth? She could still see his elegant script writing feverishly intense words to her- she could feel the pages of the diary beneath her schoolgirl fingers- she could taste the cinnamon-spice in his seventeen year old kiss. Was he only seventeen? His eyes said that he had lived an eternity at least. Like her eyes would in the morning._

_If she listened, she could still hear him whisper..._

_'Remember, my darling, you are my queen. I will never leave you.'_

_The hospital bed swirled out of focus with a protesting scream of indignation and the comforting warm colours of the Burrow emerged. Oh God- the Burrow...the last place that she had seen her mother... Like in one of Tom's memories, she was sucked back into her old room, watching her fifteen-year-old self sleep peacefully in her bed. A copy of 'Advanced Potions and Intermediate Alchemy' by Nicholas Flamel lay discarded on the edge of her bed. A door banged downstairs, causing the sleeping-Ginny to awake. There were screams and a hoarse shout- the echoing sounds of china breaking on the linoleum floor. Grasping her wand tightly in whitened fingers, Ginny opened the door only to find a masked, black cloaked woman waiting for her._

_Before she could scream, the Death Eater had closed a hand over her mouth and was carrying her down the twisting stairs. "Muggle-lover," she hissed into Ginny's ear, shoving her onto the cold floor. Her brother Ron was nowhere to be seen- it was a minute before she remembered that he had gone to stay with Sirius and Harry before they had used the Fidelius Charm._

_"Good work, Sarhen." The cold voice seemed to slither over the words rather than speak them- they made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up._

_Molly Weasley was pushed onto the floor as well- she pulled her daughter into her arms, trying to whisper reassurance._

_"Silence!" Lord Voldemort entered the room- only the swish of his black cloak could be heard. "You sympathize with filth, you become filth. You disgrace the name of wizards everywhere and dishonour your blood."_

_Molly shook from head to toe, her lip quivering, but she stood her ground. "We dishonour nothing," she spat. "You cannot be here- we have the Fidelius Charm-"_

_Her desperate voice was interrupted as the Death Eater the Dark Lord had called Sarhen lifted her wand. "Crucio."_

_"Choose those whom you entrust with secrets more carefully." Voldemort found himself echoing the words he'd said to James and Lily Potter so many years ago. Who had been their Secret Keeper? Only Molly Weasley knew._

_Ginny pushed away from her mother- convulsing and screaming- until she had subsided into a fitful silence. With water-filled eyes, she looked up at the Dark Lord Voldemort. Was this her Tom? It could not be. He lowered his gaze and assaulted her with his bloody red eyes. "No..." She whispered feebly- those were not Tom's eyes. Tom's eyes told her he loved her- Tom's eyes were real. The gashes of Voldemort's eyes were inhuman- so much colder than a Dementor's Kiss. "Tom, no..." The words escaped her lips before she could clamp them down. This was not Tom. There had been some horrible mistake...Dumbledore could not have been telling the truth when he said Tom Marvolo Riddle grew to this._

_"Well, well..." His pale hand caressed his wand as he regarded her with that terrible gaze. "Virginia Weasley- the considerate girl who freed my seventeen-year old self from his prison of words." He spoke to himself, but smiled coldly at her- enjoying her shudder. He bent down and took her chin between his bony, hard fingers, causing bruises on her skin. For a moment, his smooth brow furrowed- he could feel his being inside her soul. "Curiouser and curiouser.."_

_Ginny stayed silent as her mother dragged herself up, breathing heavily. She screamed when she saw the Dark Lord touch her daughter, scrambling to push him away with all the wrath of an enraged mother._

_Voldemort merely pointed his wand with the other hand. "Avada Kedavra." The flash of green burned her eyes and thoughts, making her feel as if he had turned her inside out. It was so evil- so purely evil..._

_"No..no...mum..." Ginny broke into tears of fear and frustration and horror. "How could you- Tom, how could you?" She grabbed at him with her fingers, demanding an answer from him. "You said-"_

_Voldemort pulled his robes from her grasp with a quick movement and drew away- only interest made him let her continue. "I said what?" His memories of being seventeen- so long ago. And compared to now, what innocence he had possessed...the luxury of faith had been his then._

_She stopped weeping, looking up at him with infinitely sad brown eyes and a voice that had once told him she would follow him to hell and beyond. "You said that I was your heart...and a man cannot live without his heart."_

_There was a tense, sudden silence as the Death Eaters looked to their master in confusion. They could not comprehend their Lord saying such a thing...ever._

_Voldemort broke it by laughing- a high, mirthless laugh of mockery. Ginny slumped onto the floor in a defeated puddle of confusion. She had been bent before, but now she was broken. And nobody but Tom could ever fix her- and Tom was gone. In his place was cold and soulless Lord Voldemort._

_"Come, my Death Eaters." He saw Sarhen raise her wand to curse the girl but raised a hand on a sudden, unbidden impulse. "Let her be, Sarhen." He said, eyes flicking over her once more. "We have already killed her."_

_Sarhen Lestrange nodded and followed the others out. Voldemort was the last to leave, and before he did he turned back to Ginny. "It is true a man cannot live without his heart. But I, Virginia Weasley, am much, much more__ than a man."_

A sudden sound- rather like a sharp intake of breath- caused Sylvoren to sit up straighter. She pushed off the quilt and slid her legs over the side of her bed, padding towards the noise. Pushing the thick drapes away, she realized that they were coming from Ginny Weasley's bed. Seventh years were allowed their own bedrooms, but Sylvoren had arrived midyear and been put in a Sixth Year dorm. On later reflection, her mother- Professor Sybil Trelawney- had not insisted as much as she should have. But then, she had been too busy getting over the shock of her daughter becoming a Gryffindor.

"Ginny?" She called softly, not wanting to invade her privacy. "Are ya awake?"

There was a shuffling noise and a trembling voice spoke softly. "Yes, Sylvoren." The Seer's Midwestern drawl was easily identifiable. The curtains shifted and Ginny emerged, dressed in a thin cotton nightgown. "Did I disturb you, Sylvoren?" Her face was tear-smudged and Sylvoren could see all the signs of a nightmare.

"Naw, not at all." She paused- while Ginny and she were good friends, perhaps such probing questions would be better coming from Hermione. Sylvoren knew for a fact that the redhead admired the older girl imensely. "Were ya having- a bad dream?"

Ginny smiled and blushed rather guiltily, the rosy hue clashing with her red hair. Sylvoren was struck anew with how pretty she was despite everything. She and Charlie looked remarkably alike, and it was universally accepted that both of them were the best-looking in the Weasley family. Ah...but she could not talk of Charlie. He had gone missing just the month before. "Yes." She did not elaborate and Sylvoren did not push. 

She knew from Hermione that Ginny had been having nightmares ever since her first year- Arthur Weasley had been concerned enough to take her to St Mungo's during her fourth year summer. But then, who could blame the poor child? "They can be annoyin' sometimes."

"I know." She smiled again, this time more apologetically. "I _did wake you up, didn't I? I've been having trouble sleeping of late, and whenever I do sleep the...dreams...wake me."_

On closer inspection, there were darker circles around Ginny's eyes. She had obviously been using Concealment Charms to keep the purplish shadows hidden during the daytime- Ron, for one, would surely ask too many questions. "You look rather tired." Sylvoren searched for a topic that was more neutral. "Um- so who're ya goin' with? To the Yule Ball, I mean. I heard that Colin asked ya."

"He did." The sudden scorn in her tone made it quite plain that she had refused. "But he only asked me because Ron's my brother and he's best friends with Harry. I think he's a bit fruity, if you know what I mean." Ginny hurried on, noting the look on Sylvoren's face. "Not that I think that their kind is wrong, or anything. Just wrong for me." Sylvoren was still skeptical of Ginny's supposed lack of bias. "Anyway, I'm going with Seamus Finnegan."

"He's a good catch. Handsome, smart, _really fun." She tried to infuse some more enthusiasm into her tone but it was far too early. "I've noticed him lookin' at ya at meal times...but...I thought you were gonna try with Harry?"_

Ginny pursed her lips, too annoyed to remember that she had told Hermione that in the strictest confidence. "I gave up on him. He's never going to fall for me, especially after the idiotic way I acted before." She made a _pfft noise in the back of her throat. "He probably thinks I'm a female version of Creevey- Ginny the little Potterette."_

"I'm sure he doesn't!" 

"Yeah, right." Her eyes clouded as if remembering something, but she waved a hand delicately. "You know, Sylvoren- I don't think I've ever asked you...where did you get your accent?"

"The dark seems ta invite questions, dunnit?" Sylvoren mumbled, tilting her head. "My accent's one hundred percent original- the Dallas Institute of Divination, State of Texas. I lived with my dad in America- he and mum divorced when I was four." She said it with no apparent emotion- a cold fact.

"So, how come you shifted here midyear?"

"I couldn't stay with m'dad." This time her tone was softer, Ginny could see the pain- still raw. "He was killed. By You-Know-Who." What Sylvoren did not add was that Voldemort had killed him because he had failed in his service.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They stood in silence for a moment longer before Ginny looked down. "I'm going to go to sit in the common room for a while-"

"I'd better get back to bed, then. See ya in the mornin'."

Ginny slipped out of the room silently as she had done many times before. Sylvoren turned and slid back into her warm bed- Dumbledore would want to be appraised of her prophecy, but that could wait till the morning. As time passed, she supposed the words would become clearer. The even breathing of the others soothed her somewhat as Sylvoren placed her head back down on the soft feather-pillow. The future of the world didn't particularly concern her- she knew from experience that previous knowledge did not necessarily ensure anything. Fate would, as usual, do exactly as she wished.

*

_Thursday 10:00  
Outside the Arithmancy Classroom _

"Granger- can I talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione turned, the look of surprise melting into annoyance as she realized who was asking for her. The other Arithmancy students had already left. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco looked slightly uncomfortable, glancing over her shoulder periodically. "Look, I'm just here to apologize about the entire Sycorax thing. I had no idea she had a little...chat...with you and I feel really bad about it-" _Not to mention that I'll never get my research if I don't. "So- I'm...I guess here to say I'm sorry." He choked on the words. __Remember Draco, ends not the means._

She looked surprised, and Draco was torn between gratification- and annoyance that she thought of him as too petty to be capable of an apology. "You didn't set her on me?" She said it uncertainly, her naturally trusting nature coming to the fore. Forcing practicality into her mind, Hermione reminded herself that Draco was, after all, a Slytherin, and naturally adept at lying.

"Why would I do that?" He fought to keep the snap out of his tone. Draco disliked having to explain himself- it reminded him too much of the nights after he got back from school when his father would question him in the study. _More like interrogate. "You have something I want- I would have at least waited until I got it from you before 'setting her' on you."_

Hermione lifted one eyebrow and took a step back. "Something you _want?" The implication was clear in her tone and Draco hurried to allay her doubts._

"Don't worry, Granger- your chastity is in no danger. I was talking about my research."

"Oh." She gave an uncomfortable laugh, forcing herself not to be hurt that her 'chastity' _wasn't in any danger. __It's not like I want Malfoy drooling after me...not that it wouldn't do my ego some good. Draco was one of the best-looking boys in school, though a lot of it was his attitude. The way he carried himself. __Though Harry could give him a run for his money in a few years time. She reached into her bag and thrust a thick sheaf of papers at him, the margins inscribed with scribbles in her slanting hand. "Here you go."_

"Thanks."

They shared an uncomfortable moment of silence before Hermione cleared her throat. "Erm- I'm going to be late for Charms."

Draco nodded, glad at the excuse to leave. "Right- see you later, then."

"Right." She hesitated once more. "Malfoy, wait. Remember how you said you wouldn't be offended if I didn't say hello in the hallways...""

_What the hell does she want? A written affidavit? "Yeah."_

Hermione looked down at her mary-janes, not liking to meet his cool gaze. "Well- you know now...after this amount of time-" She struggled to tell him that she had almost come to know him, and that he wasn't as bad as she had thought. "Would you still not be offended if I don't say hello to you?"

Draco tilted his head to one side, as if considering the question for a moment. "Does it matter?"

*

_Thursday 12:35  
The Staff Room_

Dumbledore looked around at the other Professors levelly. There were far too many new faces in the old Hogwarts staff room for his liking. Hagrid and Snape were both conspicuous by their absence; the Gamekeeper was locked in a careful second round of negotiations with the Giants along with Olympe Maxime and the Lord knew where Snape was. The principal briefly questioned the merits of his request to Severus. _I'm not quite sure whether I would have accepted such a charge myself...it is lucky that Severus still feels the weight of the debt he believes is owed me._

Alex Ramsey, the new History of Magic teacher, had not quite been a hit. He had arrived and joshingly demanded that the Professors address him as 'Skidmarks'- Minerva's expression at the request had been simply priceless. Gordon Nott had taken over Care of Magical Creatures along with the leadership of the Slytherin House and it was widely suspected, quite rightly, that Dumbledore had given him the appointment just to keep an eye on him. Celeste Havisham, Draco Malfoy's half-sister and sole apprentice of Nicholas Flamel, was the new Potions Professor. She was extremely talented- Dumbledore even went far enough to say that she was gifted- at Potions and Alchemy, but that didn't change the fact that she was a mere twenty and didn't at all get along with Draco. Lucius Malfoy had been quite furious at the appointment and had only been mollified when Snape himself insisted on it. That was one thing Dumbledore admired in Snape- personal feelings never compromised his professional objectivity. And of course, Dumbledore could hardly forget the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor- Jennifer Candon. She could be politely termed as an 'enthusiast', but a more accurate description would be 'fanatic'. She was one of the principal leaders in the quasi-terrorist North American Federation Against the Dark Arts- NAFDA, but that didn't change the fact that she knew her stuff.

"But Albus- do you think we should give..._them the pleasure of knowing that they have disrupted our schedules?" McGonagall interrupted his ruminations._

His blue eyes glimmered fiercely behind the half-moon spectacles. "Better give them such meagre pleasure than allow trivialities to occupy our time while we should be concentrating on matters far more important. The recent disappearances, the incident at the Quidditch World Cup during the summer...and more alarmingly, Ms Trelawney's rather disturbing prediction...make me quite certain that we are on the brink."

"The brink of _what, Professor?" Celeste asked, her grey eyes concerned._

"Something big," he replied grimly. "So we are agreed?"

There was a general muttering of consent- it was purely for show, in reality the decision had been made when Dumbledore had aired his suggestion. There was not a person in the room that would doubt the great Albus, himself.

McGonagall sighed gustily. "Ah well- I'm glad that it is _you, not I, that will have the pleasure of informing the students that the Yule Ball has been postponed. I understand that it has become the focal point of quite a few Seventh year soap operas..." She smiled condescendingly, deigning not to remember her own youthful follies in the matters of the heart._

Ramsey interrupted with a smirk, enthusiastic for the first time during the meeting. "They are sufficiently distracted by the even greater drama of the first Quidditch match. It is Gryffindor and Slytherin, I believe?"

"Yes." Jennifer Candon nodded, and Dumbledore could see that it was on the tip of her tongue to say something scathing about Slytherin and so he hurried to interrupt.

"Anyway, Alex, I don't think you should get too distracted. After all you're seeing to the Yule Ball arrangements." He nodded quickly. "That apart, I believe it is time to start renewing some of our old defenses...those we had in operation before 1988. You will see to it, won't you, Minerva?"

"Of course."

Dumbledore stood up, calling the meeting to an end. "As a last note, I will be leaving tomorrow for a few days. It seems Minister Fudge has run into a few difficulties and needs my _urgent aid." There was a faint trace of annoyance in his tone- these days he had little patience for those like Cornelius Fudge. Despite the blatant signals around him, the man refused to officially accept Voldemort's return. "I will be leaving the school in Minerva's wholly capable hands in that time. Thank you for your promptness- I'm sure you all have classes to return to...." _

*

_Thursday 20:48  
The Owlery_

The door to the Owlery creaked open, a shadowed head appearing briefly to check whether it was empty or not. Seemingly satisfied, the head was accompanied by a tall, lithe body draped in black. A parchment was clutched in its right hand, sealed with black wax. An eagle owl chirped in recognition, swooping down to the figures' hand and securing the short note in his claws. "Do your task well." The figure's voice was low and harsh; it was completely impossible to ascribe a gender to it. Hooting as if in agreement, the owl took off into the gathering daylight.

It was evening by the time the owl had reached his destination, but it was unmistakable even in the twilight. The tall, forbidding spires of Azkaban were a sight few Wizards could forget. The owl did not make for the front entrance, instead heading for an upper window that was open. The top floors of the castle had always been reserved for interrogation rather than cells. Once inside, it was quite obvious that their function had been perverted- a writing desk was placed underneath the window for the light and a large bed stood off to the side. It was quite obvious that it was someone's living quarters. The owl settled on the perch, specifically designed for the purpose, content to wait.

It was barely ten minutes before a masked man strode in- obviously a Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy slid the stifling mask up, regarding the tawny owl with an expression between anticipation and apprehension. "What news have you for me, Solstice?" He mumbled, easily recognizing his son's owl. He grasped the parchment and unrolled it. It was addressed to 'Baron', his codename when he communicated with sympathizers.

The codename was curiously fitting- only he, among all Voldemort's supporters, was truly titled. His blue eyes narrowed- Lord Voldemort was no real Lord. He was an interloper- an opportunist that had gotten lucky. Why else would a baby and a _woman have defeated him? Lord Voldemort was obsessed with __him- the Potter boy- the reason that they were now in the chill towers of Azkaban instead of sipping champagne at 'The Siren' while Imperius-cursed wizards and witches performed on the stage for their pleasure. Their great Lord had lost sight of the fundamentals of the Dark Arts- he put himself and his goals in front of the goals of purity of blood and Muggle subjugation. And they would all pay the price for that._

Lucius Malfoy was not one to go down with a sinking ship- in fact, it would be a close race between himself and the most neurotic of the rats to see who managed to desert first. That was the exact reason he had been in contact with the Collective over the last few months. Yet he could not underestimate Voldemort- he had a way of finding out about infidelity. But Lucius Tiberio Valwracen Malfoy was a smart, patient man. With a start, he realised he had been daydreaming. Bad habit. _Concentrate on the task at hand. The note was signed 'Poltergeist,' and the code was one that had been previously agreed upon. It was quite easy to crack, if one had the opportunity. The trick was in making sure nobody else ever read the notes. Lucius' brow furrowed slightly as he sat down at his desk. He reached for his quill and parchment to pen a quick reply before taking the news to his Master...well, his master for now. Dark Lords could be replaced. Their mole at Hogwarts had been a stroke of brilliance on Lucius Malfoy's part, and he had been well rewarded for it. He was much in debt to Poltergeist. A solid silver quill emblazoned with a stylized 'M' was his choice- in times of duress it could be used to quell a werewolf. Double use was valued by him. Lucius dipped the nib into a pot of deep green ink and began to write._

"Lu_cius." The voice dipped on the second syllable rather impatiently as the door creaked open. "I've been looking for you-" The Death Eater's tone was suggestive and heavy. _

The pale haired man was on his feet even before the first word had been dropped- he moved towards the other Death Eater slowly, pausing a few inches in front of the mask. It was so close they could hear each other breathe. "Have you now?" His voice was like fine brushed silk as his lips curved into a smile. Lucius reached for the mask, his fingers tracing the outline, pushing under it and slowly edging it upward. It clattered to the floor with a hollow sound and the hood fell from the delicately-featured face. "And why exactly would that be?"

A tumble of soft red hair fell to Charlie Weasley's shoulders as he yielded himself up for a kiss from Lucius Malfoy. They broke apart and he laughed, tugging absentmindedly at a lock of hair. "As much as I wish otherwise- our Lord summons. He says you have news and not to dawdle."

Lucius Malfoy's face twisted in horror and hatred for one single moment before he took a deep breath. "Excellent- I shall make haste."

Lord Voldemort always knew all.

*

_5.12.1997, Friday 0811  
By the Lake_

Six years had passed. Ginny could not fathom how she had survived. It was Life after Tom and everything had such a banal, inconsequential character to it that she sometimes felt dead. Oh, she laughed and cried and pretended- everything had such a glossy veneer that she herself believed it at times. That was until she closed her eyes and fragments of him sparkled behind her closed eyelids. Shards of glass- tantalizing yet dangerous to touch. Ginny Weasley smiled. That was her Tom- perfect, smooth, reflecting...painful.

She quickened her pace as she spotted the person she had come out on the chilly morning for. "Malfoy."

He turned fluidly, with an almost languid air. A half-smile lingered on his lips and Ginny couldn't decide whether it was in mocking of her or the world itself. He was obscured by the clinging mist that rose from the lake. "Virginia Weasley." The solemnity with which he said it reminded her of Tom. She could not have that.

"Ginny."

"Whatever." Draco shrugged delicately and turned back to his view. _Well, well, if it isn't Bighead Boy's sister. He thought, in unconscious emulation of the Weasley Twins. "What do you want?"_

"A favour." The wind caught her hair and tossed it from her face, stinging her skin. She almost bit her tongue...was this what she was reduced to? Begging a Malfoy for one last shot of love-heroin...one last sniff of the illicit drug that he possessed and she desired. Just another junkie betraying everything she believed in for another taste... Yet this poison was worth it, even as it corrupted her insides and burned her soul into vapour. Saccharine coated cyanide that she needed.

Draco raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Isn't that what we all want?" He mumbled, still not turning to her. "What particular favour is this and why in Grindelwald's name are you asking me?" He was mildly curious- he didn't think it was anything romantic or sexual. Not that he'd mind. _Easily the prettiest Gryff. Draco observed, a little dispassionately. __Though she doesn't have a thing on Sycorax. Sycorax. That girl scared him- not in the traditional, quaking way- but in colder, deeper places. Malfoys had a finely developed sense of trouble- and every sense screamed whenever she smiled at him._

"Malfoy...I want-" She stopped and swallowed, stepping closer. "Malfoy- I want the diary."

"_What?" He was shocked out of his normal glacier-like composure. _

"The diary. Tom Riddle's diary. I want it."

"Why?" _Idiot. He chastised himself. __She's giving you the chance of a lifetime- the chance to please your father- and you're asking questions? You're as much as a fool as he says you are._

She smiled, but Draco could see that she didn't mean it. He smiled like that so many times. "What are you, a reporter from the 'Prophet?" Ginny brushed reddish hair out of her eyes, looking up at him with both fear and anticipation. "I need to know something." She whispered.

Draco did not ask what. "It was ruined. Potter burned a hole through it."

"I still want it."

He didn't understand why, but his mind was taken up by a much larger question that had just occurred to him. "How do I know this isn't some trap set by Potter and the Muggle-lovers? To implicate my father in the Dark Arts?" He was more belligerent now and seemed much taller to the petite girl.

She didn't say a word, but reached out for his wand hand wrist and pulled it up till Draco's wand pointed at her chest. "Test me." She said simply.

He swallowed, knowing what he had to do but a little wary nonetheless. The Veritas spell was not to be taken lightly, and took up so much energy. "_Veritas." A white-gold light pulsed through her, arcing around her in a blaze. Her eyes closed and she was pushed back, falling slowly. Draco reached out, grabbing her sweater and pulling her to her feet, keeping the wand trained on her. The light held her in a glowing bubble. Her eyes fluttered open and her face was utterly relaxed. "You alright?" __Mustn't damage the merchandise before the sale._

"No." There was no inflection in her tone, just a cool factualness that he found unnerving.

"Is asking me for Riddle's diary a trap?"

"No."

"The diary is ruined, how can you find out what you need?"

"He told me that the magic he used to bind himself in the diary is powerful- very powerful. Even Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to grasp the intricacies of it. The diary is just a physical manifestation of the memory- the memory can never be destroyed. It's just a matter of transferring the memory to another medium." Ginny paused and took a deep breath. "I know how to do that spell."

Curiosity got the better of him. "Why do you want his memory?"

"To know if he loves me."

"If _who loves you?"_

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Draco was rendered speechless, something not very usual for him. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile. Father would be pleased with this information...perhaps this would be the pawn with which he would gain Lucius' approval. He would realize that Draco was worthy of being the Malfoy heir. He closed his eyes and pointed the wand away from Ginny, watching the light fade and finally disappear. She shrugged slowly onto the snow, her white cloak melding with the ice till all that could be seen was the bloody stain of her red hair against the paleness.

"I'll get it for you." Draco cast her one last, penetrating glance before making his way back up to the castle.

*

_Friday 1044  
Euterpe Production Company, Hogsmeade_

"Good news, my little British canaries!"

Violet Farann oscillated between wanting to laugh out loud or punch Thomas Garner, their manager and publicity agent, in the face. Right now, she tended towards violence. She shoved her hands into the smallish pockets of her denim cutoffs just to stop herself from doing something irrational. Her shirt was black with 'Violet Fire' in shimmering purple writing across the front. "And what might tha' be?" She inquired wearily- they had just returned from an eight-month tour of the United States and were quite glad to come back to old Britannia.

Garner pulled out a creased letter, displaying the Hogwarts crest to her. "Where's Blaze and Darrel?"  
"Right 'ere, Tommy boy." Blaise McAllistair more popularly known as Blaze ("Blaise- isn't that a _girl's name?"), walked in behind Darrel. He carried an expensive polished leather guitar case which contrasted oddly with the torn jeans and baggy Iron Maiden t-shirt. "What's all this about a new gig?" He had the faintest trace of a Scottish accent._

"Hogwarts!" Garner crowed triumphantly at landing the prestigious show. "The Yule Ball."

"Kids!" She made an incredulous noise. "We're playing for silly kids! We want to be taken seriously, Garner."

Darrel Farann, Violet's brother and the drummer, held up a hand. "Come on, Vi. Those _kids you're talking about are a just few years younger than us. We're only twenty-two, for God's sake!" He had a perfect British accent, without even a hint of cockney like his sister. Violet had a tendency to drop end consonants and 't's'. Darrel shuddered whenever she said 'water'._

"That's right, Darrel. Violet, you're being unreasonable, darling. It's showbiz. The Hogwarts performance will open out a whole lot of new avenues for the band." Their agent was only too happy to elaborate.

Blaze smacked his forehead, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, bloody no- my cousins go to school there! Gabriele's in her third year…and my dear Cousin Sycorax is in the seventh year there. She gives me the willies."

"You mean she's scarier than that Denise girl you dated? The one who belonged to the Order of the White Rose?" She mentioned the extremist pureblood group with a grimace.

"Way scarier." Blaze shook his head quickly and changed the subject. "Isn't the Ball in two weeks? Tommy boy- you've done it now. We aren't going to have enough practice time to do our new songs."

Garner shook his head. "No, they've postponed it, look!" He shoved the paper towards the three of them.

_Tommy,_

_I know you like a good opportunity as much as the next money-grubbing capitalist and it's time for me to get out of your debt. We're looking for a band to play at the postponed Yule Ball on the 14th of January 1998. You seem to have one under your wing. Anyway, before you think I've gone soft, I'm only asking because half the students have ambushed me in the corridors begging for me to 'get Violet Fire' and the other half threatened to hex me if I didn't. They have a very ardent (not to mention violent) fan following._

_We'll need entertainment for about three and a half-hours including breaks. If your people have any special requirements as to decor or special effects, I'm only too happy to oblige (or Minerva McGonagall will be- she's the Illusion and Glamours expert)._

_Write back with your timings and I'll send you a Portkey._

_Cheers,_

_Skidmarks_

_P. S- Make sure that band of yours keeps it clean or my head will be on a platter the next morning. I mean it!_

A magical banner advertising Nike Wizardsport wear blinked on and off along the bottom.

"Is that Skidmarks as in Alex Ramsey the racing champion?" Violet demanded. Garner nodded and her eyes widened. "Wow."

"Let me let you in for something even more-er-_wow." He leaned closer, as if imparting some great secret. "Guess who else you can meet at Hogwarts." He paused. "Harry Potter!"_

There was a collective gasp of disbelief. Everybody knew Harry Potter was at Hogwarts...but somehow it didn't register. "Not _the Harry Potter, Garner!"_

"Yes indeed!"

"Cor!" Blaze's monosyllabic expression of wonder said it all.

Garner smiled, in an oozing, smug way that only he could master. "And I bet I could arrange for you to meet them...though if you don't want to play for kids I guess you're not-"

Violet interrupted with an annoyed sigh. "All right, Tommy boy, you win. Let's get practicing."

*

_6.12.1997, Saturday 0100  
The Siren_

Dust covered every surface, from the reflecting mirrors to the polished oaken floors. The black brocade curtains were worn thin and the faintly shimmering purple carpeting torn and scuffed. A grand piano with ivory keys and beautiful mahogany work stood to one side of the stage, in eternal waiting for a performer. Expensive tables and chairs lay upturned all over the place and the glass-topped bar was cracked. The shelves were sprinkled with shards from bottles and crystal glasses. The paint peeled, and pieces were missing from the jeweled chandelier. Everything had the stark look of abandonment, of merriment interrupted by some fearsome horror.

In the old days, it had been made out of the stuff of dreams. It was a nightclub- but more than that. It was a place where the world didn't intrude. Even during the gain of Voldemort's power it had been filled with wizards both Dark and Light. Who you were on the outside didn't matter as long as you didn't molest the performers. All that changed after Rhiannon died. She was the force behind the Siren- she had started the place in the mid seventies as a refuge from the harshness of life, never expecting it to be as wildly popular as it became. In the beginning, it was open to both Muggles and non-Muggles, but soon had to be closed to the former because of new orders from the Ministry. It didn't matter to the profits, every witch and wizard over twenty-one had probably been there at least once.

Voldemort's rising simply caused people to seek out fantasy more and more- and where better than the Siren? The premier singers of the Wizarding world had performed there, along with a permanent group of entertainers that stayed on the upper floors. Rhiannon had thrown open her doors to followers of both Dumbledore and Voldemort, for she herself had no opinion on the matter. That state of affairs had been fine until November 1980. Lord Voldemort, along with the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy, had forced their way into the Siren and murdered her in cold blood. The day after that her brother, Severus Snape, became a spy for Dumbledore. 

The Siren was never the same. Voldemort converted it into a twisted house of torture, available only to his followers. Wizards and witches that had been captured were tortured in the upper floors and made to perform humiliating acts under the Imperius Curse for their enjoyment. After his downfall in 1981, the place was just abandoned. Nobody had the courage to return it to the glory it had under Rhiannon Snape. Though it belonged to her brother, he could never bring himself to go back or even mention the place. But he could never sell it, either.

Yet, now it was not so abandoned. Behind the stage was an area bathed in light. It was spotlessly clean, with professional looking polished tables and stiff backed chairs glinting in the semidarkness. It was a large area, with enough room for fifty people to lounge around in comfort. Portraits of the greatest Dark Lords throughout history lined the walls and looked on the table with cold detachment. A large metal lantern sat in the centre of the table and cast a yellowish light on the people seated and standing. The ceiling was a deep black with a queer symbol painted on in red. Two snakes formed a rough ellipse, the tail of each snake in the other's mouth, locked in death. In the centre was a large, stylized eye with a pentagram inside the iris.

A red-uniformed man entered and rang a bell. Every person in the room stopped and headed for the table, sliding silently into predetermined seats. Everyone was wearing deep black robes and a medallion. The front of medallion was emblazoned according to the faction they represented while on the back was the same sign that was on the ceiling, and hung on a different coloured ribbon. The bell ringer sat to the right of the woman at one head of the table.

The man on her right, whose medallion held the same snake-pentagram sign of the Collective on both sides, stood. "The thirty-fifth meeting of the Collective shall come to order." He looked around at the faces- each one was a leader from where they came, yet today they sat in subjugation to a higher power. The power of the Collective. "I hope you will join me-" His words requested, but his brown eyes commanded. "-in standing respect of the honoured Representative of the Collective, our leader and our greatest strength- Astarte, Queen of the lost peoples of Babylonia, the cradle of Magic."

Astarte rose majestically, wearing heavy silk robes and no medallion. Long black hair fell in twists to her back and straight, regal features lent her nobility. Her skin was a shining night-like brown. Her age was impossible to guess (in reality she was forty three). She raised a bony hand, gazing around the meeting with pale eyes.

"We shall not waste your time with self-glorification. This is a time for action, and those of pure heart must come together now more than ever. For millennia, the blind fools who oppose us have branded us 'Dark Wizards' and 'evil'. We are neither. We are crusaders, we are the heroes of the world who are shunned because of the ignorance perpetuated by the Order of the Phoenix and their lackeys. We alone foresee the inherent disaster that will surely come of diluting our blood and opening our reality to those without our perceptions. We learn lessons from history- Muggles despise those different from them and stop at nothing to either enslave or slaughter them completely. They have polluted and poisoned their world and are now on the brink of self-destruction because of their own actions. Why should we help them when all they want to do is murder us as we sleep? Why should we throw more lives at the Muggle-created abyss that cannot be breached? We hold the weight of saving an unwilling world on our shoulders yet we shall never tire because we know we are pure! The flame of Righteousness burns within us, giving us the courage to labour on."

She held them spellbound with the lilt of her voice, the clarity of her eyes. "The Collective of Purity welcomes each of you into her embrace. Together we will triumph-" Astarte seemed to stiffen further as she gazed at each person seated at the table. Each person's morals and ideals were deemed acceptable for attendance, and each person's power over their area was absolute. "-the world over."

_Dmitri Volanovya Romanov- the last descendant of the Czars and leader of the Children of the Rebirth, which promoted the concept of Revolution in favour of wizard over muggle rule._

_Giancarlo Fenduce- the terror of the Mediterranean, known for his cruelty as much as his intelligence._

_Indira Andiyaar of the Indian Tantrics, renowned for their utter, intense faith in the value of purebloodedness and willingness to use any means to achieve their ends._

_Jacques Medoc with the French Order of the White Rose, which believed that Wizards were the superior race and deserved to rule over the Muggles as masters._

_Ramona Schwarz, head of Pure Germany, committed to wiping out every last strain of Muggle ancestors from Magical blood._

_Voldemort, lord of the British Death Eaters and the Heir of Slytherin. The Death Eaters wanted to purge the Wizarding World of mudbloods and herald a new age of Pure Wizardry along with dominance over Muggles._

_George Parker with the North American Dawnbringers, a Seer who believed he had seen the 'new dawn' of Wizarding Purity emerge drenched in the blood of the Muggles._

_John Henry Dawson, head preacher to the Congregation of New Hope, a fanatical religious organization which believed the Muggles to be against nature and God's ways._

_Lao-tse Li, leader of the Black Dragon Organization, which desired a return to the old times, traditional ways and increase in respect for Wizardkind._

_Khaleej Al-Qabr, previously involved with the Hammas, top on the Israeli Ministry of Magic's wanted list and the leader of the wizarding sect of Lebanese Islamic Jihad._

_Katrin Sjorlad of the People of the Winter, who advocated that Muggles be burned at the stake and give them a taste of their own medicine. The People of the Winter advocated that ten Muggle lives be taken for every Wizard life lost. _

"Today's meeting has a sombre purpose, one that cannot be avoided...but is distasteful nonetheless." With one accusatory finger she pointed to the man with the skull and snake medallion. "Voldemort. You will stand." Astarte's voice was compelling- he hesitated a moment and then stood, interlacing his fingers in waiting. "Britain has been the least successful project that the Collective has undertaken. What does that tell you?"

His eyes glowed redder than ever. "I am sure you shall enlighten me, Astarte." Voldemort placed a slight emphasis on her name, a rebuke for not using his proper title.

"Indeed. It tells all of us at this meeting that either Britain is an unconquerable bastion of defense or that the Collective's representative there is not doing their job well enough. _You, Lord Voldemort are our representative." She took a slow deep breath and met his eyes. "Give me sufficient reason for your failure. Give me sufficient reason not to kill you today."_

Life had a sense of irony, it seemed. "The entire country is drunk on Dumbledore and Potter. They lap up his words like hungry dogs- and nothing I give them can satisfy that hunger."

Astarte looked disgusted. "Your excuses are weak. You are weaker. We all of us-" She included everyone with a grand sweep of her arm. "-have our Dumbledores and Potters. That hunger your people are experiencing- it is hunger for leadership. You wonder why so few of your followers have returned? It is because you failed them once before in your obsession with the Potter family. Your followers were cast into hell and worse because you were unable to protect them. People do not return to those who fail to succeed- they will not listen to those who they do not respect. They look at you and think- he is great now, but he was once defeated by a baby. Were you so blind? Did you not remember one of the most ancient magics?" Astarte shook her head, the long black curls casting shadows on the wall. "You tried to rule your people by exchanging Dumbledore's blindfold with your own."

Voldemort stood very stiffly through it all, his pale cheeks flushing with anger and humiliation. He said nothing.

"We have had enough of your incapability. Reswear your oath with us or walk out of that door."

"If I walk out, how much time will I remain alive before you have me executed?" Voldemort raised one eyebrow and shrugged, continuing before she could answer. "No. I shall swear my oath once more."

"The Collective only accepts willing gifts- not tributes of fear."

"I fear nothing."

Astarte shook her head slowly. "Your age has not made you wiser. Come then, swear your oath."

Voldemort lifted his wand hand and placed it on his heart. "_I swear to uphold the goals and duties given to me by the Collective and reaffirm my willingness to sacrifice my own well being for that of the magical race. I cast all thoughts of self from my soul and embrace only the purity of belief in the new world order that we strive to create. I swear by magic, and my love of it, that I will not rest until our blood is safe from dilution and our lives are safe from all threats. My mind, my body, my soul, are one with the Collective and I shall never stray from the path of supreme truth." _

*

_Saturday 1000  
The Quidditch Pitch_

It seemed as if the entire school had come out to watch the match. The tension had been mounting quite high ever since last year, when both Gryffindor and Slytherin had been fined so heavily for unsportsmanlike behaviour that Ravenclaw won the House Cup in a walk. Both sides blamed the other- an actual fistfight had ensued between the Slytherin chasers and Gryffindor beaters since neither were in any state of mind to concentrate on their magic. The rest of the school was rather divided on the matter. In their earlier years, they would have jumped to blame the Slytherins, but they were growing up. House rivalry was more of a game than serious hatred. 

As if to illustrate that fact, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wore their own colours to the game- though there were smatterings of scarlet and emerald here and there. Scarlet being the more common of the two. Slytherin, of course, had turned out in resplendent house colours, flashing silver banners. Gordon Nott sat at the very front, baring his teeth in a half-snarl, half-smile. Their previous head of house, Snape, seemed just and amiable compared to him. The Gryffindors held up large banners with golden lions- a few first years had even drawn a silver and green snake being crushed under a lion's foot. Minerva McGonagall stood near the commentator's box as usual- it was a habit she had acquired during Lee Jordan's term and was hard to give up.

Dean Thomas had been chosen to preside instead, which was why he was wearing a black Hogwarts robe instead of gold and red.

"Here comes the Gryffindor team- they've gotten quite a few new players this year. They've been practicing hard to gel together as a team- will it pay off?" A loud 'yes' rose up from the Gryffindor supporters. "Gabriele Delacour, Parvati Patil and Patrick McVale, the three Chasers- Vasili Ovlosoff and Neville Longbottom, the two Beaters, Seamus Finnegan the Keeper _and Captain-Seeker Harry Potter!"_

The Gryffindors shot out of the training room and assumed their positions on the field. Harry was down low, as it was tradition for the two captains to start the match with the whistle. The Slytherins emerged in a flash of green- all of them on fast brooms. They were in a close 'v', breaking apart in the middle of the Quidditch field and scattering like twinkly scintilla to their positions. The crowd broke into applause, loudest over the Slytherin side.

"And the Slytherins! This is the best team the Slytherins have had in quite some time, and they've been practicing their moves." He paused for a moment and tried to call up some enthusiasm. "Captain and Seeker Draco Malfoy-" He couldn't help his lip curl, but McGonagall gave him a quelling look. "-followed by Vincent Crabbe and Lakshmi "Lucky" Andiyaar- Beaters, Sycorax Lestrange, Wilhelm Kjolask, Rodney McNair- Chasers, and Seraphine Malfoy the Keeper."

Harry searched the stands for Cho. The two weren't really going out...yet. Her parents had been murdered the year before, and Cho had taken a break from school instead of starting her Seventh Year. She had returned and joined Harry's grade a changed person- the certain spark had gone out of her eyes. Instead of having a large group of friends, as she had the year before, she kept to herself. But Cho Ellen Chang still played her heart out at Quidditch. He found her- and to his disappointment she was dressed in Ravenclaw blue. _Damn. He went over to the Gryffindor section and quickly found Ron and Hermione on the topmost row. Both were wearing Hogwarts black. For a moment, he didn't know what was going on- till he remembered that the Head Boy and Girl were not allowed to show bias unless they were actually on a team._

He wondered if he would have refused Dumbledore's offer to be a Prefect if he had known he would be working with Cho. Those many opportunities for Prefects do work together. _Being Captain is much better. And I couldn't do both. He told himself. Thinking along those lines, he remembered that Draco had been offered the Head Boy's position and had refused. __Now why would that be? He wondered, glancing at the pale-faced young man. __Malfoy's always been after power. So Draco had remained a Prefect and two Gryffindors took the position instead._

Harry wondered if Cho would have gotten the Head Girl position if she had done her seventh year. _Probably. Despite his liking for her, there was no doubt that Hermione made a much finer Head Girl than Cho could possibly be. She was perfect for it- responsible, diligent, fair, intelligent... Even Cho's grades had been slipping- so much so that Dumbledore called her to his office to have a talk with her. Cho was still in the past and her brief school romance with Cedric had condensed into a nostalgia-fuelled obsession. She had refused Harry exactly seventeen times, but he still searched the stands for her every Quidditch game._

Draco, on the other hand, never glanced to the crowds once- neither did he look at his teammates. Sycorax was disappointed- she had worn a wig with silky, shimmering green hair just for the event. What was the use if Draco didn't even look at her? The girl resolved to ignore him for a few hours after the match, even if he won. Well, maybe not if he won...

Draco was actually too occupied with holding onto his broom. He had a strange feeling in his stomach, like his insides were alive and writhing. _Just concentrate. It's nerves. Don't be a baby, Draco._

Madam Hooch's light eyes glared a stiff warning at both captains. Despite the fact that house rivalry was subdued, Gryffindor-Slytherin matches tended to be a little more...enthusiastic...than any others. "Captains, shake hands! No dirty stuff. I meant it."

Harry extended his hand in a jerk at Hooch's shrill request. Draco was slower, barely brushing the Gryffindor's fingers before allowing his hand to drop. "Hope you don't get one of those _awful headaches during the match, Potter." He whispered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "Is that scar acting up?"_

"Why don't you ask your future Master, Malfoy? Or have you already sold your soul?"

Draco's grey eyes narrowed perceptibly. "At least the Dementors aren't after mine." He drawled slowly. "How _is dear old Sirius Black anyway?"_

Harry's retort was cut short by Madam Hooch raising a hand. Silence descended on the pitch- Harry was acutely aware of his breathing, the beating of his heart...each second stretched. "Three, two, one-" The shrill whistle signaled the beginning of the match- Hooch ducked beneath the players, anxious to avoid any midair collisions.

In the commentary box, Dean was halfway out of his seat. "And they're off!" He yelled, his voice magically magnified. "Potter and Malfoy take off for the top- no sign of the Snitch. Gryffindor newbie McVale's got the Quaffle- oh, he's a bold one...arrgh- an excellently hit Bludger by Andiyaar. Lestrange takes the Quaffle- ducks and passes to Kjolask, who shoots! And what the hell- heck- er, heavens- was that? Quaffle intercepted by a Bludger hit by Crabbe! Surely that's a penalty?" Madam Hooch signaled a vehement no, and mouthed some words to him with a shrug. "Apparently there are no rules dealing with such incidents- play resumes!" 

By the end of the first half, Slytherin was up by 20 points mostly due to the efforts of Lestrange, Kjolask and Seraphine Malfoy. Somehow during the commentary, Dean managed to elide her name into Smalfoy to differentiate her from Draco Malfoy, her cousin. Not that either Seekers were doing much- the Snitch had been spotted once, but had flitted away before anything could be done about it. Harry was a little reluctant to plunge into the melee below- Ovlosoff and Longbottom- the Gryffindor Beaters, were going wild. They worked excellently in tandem, with a joint hit to attempt ratio that was only matched by the Weasley twins. Of course, Draco had a little bit more to worry about on that front- they were actually trying to hurt _him._

_The Snitch! High in the air, far above the goalposts, a small golden shimmer caught Harry's eye. With Draco just a moment behind him, he sped towards it on his Firebolt. The wind rushed through Draco's hair, burning his eyes as the Snitch weaved even higher close to the Slytherin banners. His throat constricted as another image flashed in front of his eyes, almost superimposed on the present scene._

_Draco was racing towards the Snitch, the sound of the wind in his ears like a thousand ocean waves. He was younger by a year or so- perhaps sixteen. His fingers were loose around the handle of the broom and he turned back to smile. "Getting slower, Harry?" He laughed, rather amicably. "No," Came the reply. "Just faking you out." Harry darted in front of him, caught the Snitch between his fingers and pulled up just before the goalposts. "Nice move, Potter. Too bad they can only choose one of us as Slytherin Seeker." Harry grinned back, his green eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "Well, at least it's all in the family, Malfoy." "Don't speak so loudly, Potter. People will think that we're actually related, and not just legally bound." _

The image faded, and Draco felt a weight tugging at him, pulling him downwards. _What the hell is going on? He wanted to scream, to yell that he was having crazy hallucinations but there was nothing but the weight. He felt the broom slip from his fingers as his muscles stopped working. Cloak billowing around him like a ripped parachute, he plummeted to the ground. The entire crowd gasped as they heard the sickening thud and crunch of snapping bone. Sycorax screamed shrilly. The Snitch had disappeared before Harry had gotten to it but Madam Hooch called a halt to the match._

Crabbe and Goyle were quick to come by his side, towering over him like huge lost puppies. "Draco." Goyle prodded him a little with his thick hands and pouted when nothing happened. Seraphine Malfoy held Sycorax's hand as they edged closer to Draco's prone body. Sycorax winced and paled slightly. "Is he alright?" She asked, in a stage whisper.

McGonagall decided that Crabbe and Goyle could do more harm than good near the boy. "Go get Madam Pomfrey. Tell her we've had a Quidditch accident." She ordered, slowly. Nott was nowhere to be seen. By that time Celeste, Draco's half sister, was already kneeling on the ground next to him. _He looks so small and pale and tired. She cradled his head in her lap rather protectively- Draco did not like her very much, but such petty things didn't matter. Her eyes raked his body for injury- his right foot jutted at an impossible angle to his ankle and the right shoulder was badly dislocated. Apart from that, he had a cut on his cheek that spilled blood down his face. _

Seraphine tapped her on the shoulder. "Professor Havisham...Celeste- is he going to be okay?" 

"I don't think it's anything serious. Though we'll have to wait for Poppy's analysis." Her grey eyes met with Seraphine's trademark Malfoy-blue ones. _Come to think of it, the entire Malfoy clan doesn't like me very much. But then, I'm not a Malfoy._

"_Bien. Uncle Lucius would have __murdered me if anything had happened to Draco." Somehow, Celeste didn't think she was exaggerating. Seraphine turned away and went to hold Sycorax's hand as Poppy Pomfrey arrived with a magically floating stretcher. "__La malade n' est pas grave, Sycorax. It's not serious, it's nothing. __Ça ne fait rien." _

---

_Note: Yes- I am a Tom/Ginny 'shipper! The poem used in the dream sequence is 'Comeclose and Sleepnow' by Roger McGough. And before anyone says it, I know there hasn't been much romance so far, but that will change soon. Patience is a virtue *gags and feels like a Hufflepuff* Hands up who's seen the Potter movie! *raises her own* Yes- I have! The visuals were really good *pauses to drool some more over Tom Felton- who is _beyond_ perfect as Malfoy*, Hermione was just as good as Malfoy and Rupert Grint actually made Ron into someone you don't want to slash into tiny little mangled pieces *Sorry, Ronfans, been watching From Hell as well* They missed out some really good scenes and the Sorting Song, which leaves people who haven't read the books wondering what the hell each house is for. Ah well, on the whole, it's good. Anyone got any news on book five?? Thank you for reading. _

_Coming up- everyone goes home for Christmas, we see a lot more of the Malfoys *muted cheering*, a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix and some Life Before Harry à la Sirius Black…_

_Huge huggles and thankyou's to: LadySanna (D/Hr is life), Kristine Rose (I hope Draco's personality stayed on track in this one!), Morrigan 934 (hope you got your character fix from this one!), Mariella (more evil plots coming to keep you in suspense!), Cat Samwise (glad you like Sycorax- i love her too!) and BlaiseW (it's so refreshing to recieve long, candid reveiws- can I beg for another one?) Special smileys to Firenze/Lizelle (I know you didn't review this one- but I had to say thanks somewhere!) and Victoria (*waves her ship banners*)_

_If your name isn't up there you didn't reveiw me! You don't want to see a grown girl cry now, do you?_

_Review or die._

_*takes out her wand and waves it menacingly* _

_---  
--- _

This Chapter/Fic is OVER.


	3. Loyalties

Title: San Fairy Ann 3/?  
Author name: Midnight Star  
Author email: slytherin_pureblood@yahoo.com  
Rating: R- for themes and innuendo  
Category: Romance/Drama  
Keywords: Draco, Hermione, Seventh Year,   
Spoilers: PS/SS, PoA, GoF, FB  
Summary: 

_Twenty first century malaise has infected the Ministry while Voldemort's Rising immerses it in bleak chaos. The Truth is just a convenient lie and Reality is another name for illusion. San Fairy Ann. The time has come to pay up- but what is the price for cheating fate?  
  
_

Disclaimer: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  


Author's Note: 

One big change- it's **triumvirate not Trident. I've been doing some more plotting and I realised that the reasons the Great Three were called the Trident in my other fiction won't work in those one. Many apologies, blame it on lack of foresight (where's Trelawney when you need her, eh?) I have also made some assumptions in this chapter as to the nature of several people and creatures that JKR has left open. **

Much thanks to Undefined and Tinuviel Henneth, my BETA readers, and Tiamat, who's a darling and 'BETA reveiws' me!

**San Fairy Ann**

_"Bury me above the clouds_

_all the way from here_

_take away the things I need_

_take away my fear_

_hide me in a hollow sound_

_happy evermore_

_everything I had to give_

_gave out long before."_

Fix me now, Garbage

**03: Loyalties **

_7.12.1997, Sunday 0801  
Infirmary, Hogwarts _

Draco's eyes fluttered open, his hand immediately reaching for where his wand would have been. Instead of that, he found his fingers closed about folds of cotton fabric. _Where in Slytherin's name am I? The clinically white walls and prim, soothing blue checked sheets coupled with the disinfectant smell rendered his question redundant. "I hate infirmaries." He declared morosely to the wall. _

"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy." Poppy Pomfrey breezed in at that opportune moment and proceeded to tuck the quilt more firmly around him. "How are you feeling?" 

"Oh, just wonderful. Considering I nearly plummeted to death mere-," Draco ceased his speech and gave Madam Pomfrey a quizzical look. "-er, how long ago was it?" 

Pomfrey sighed and grasped his right arm firmly, checking the shoulder for any signs of swelling. "It's a bright and early Sunday morning. As the Yanks say- you do the math." 

After checking his leg and the right side of his face for any possible unhealed areas, Madam Pomfrey handed him a large mugfull of Pepper-Up Potion ("not that you need any more 'Pepper', Mr. Malfoy") to counteract the effects of the Sleeping Draught she had given him the previous night. By the end of it, Draco was awake enough to sit through an entire day of speeches about the sexual quirks of Flobberworms. 

"You've got a few visitors. Your father sent you an owl as well- I've left the note right there on the side table." Madam Pomfrey sighed voluminously. "The entire Slytherin Quidditch team is outside right now. Who shall I send in first?" 

"Sycorax. Tell the others I'll see them in the common room." Madam Pomfrey nodded and left, looking mightily relieved. 

"Draco, _darling!" Those two tremulous words were the only warning before something soft and green descended on him. "My brave little dragon, are you all right? We were all so worried when we saw you __drop like that." Sycorax unwrapped her arms from around his neck and sat down more comfortably. She was still wearing her Slytherin Quidditch robes, though the wig was gone. _

_I'm sure you bloody were. "I'm fine." _

Sycorax leaned forward and kissed him delicately. "You're quite sure? What happened?" 

"I'm-," The memory of his weird hallucination shot to the forefront of his brain. _I'm going mad. Why else would he be dreaming of Harry Potter and himself being friends? "-not quite sure." _

"Oh." She seemed slightly taken aback for a second, but then her eyes narrowed. "That _awful half sister of yours wouldn't let any of us near you." _

Draco sat up straighter in the bed, a confused look in his grey eyes. "Celeste was there?" 

"She stayed with you till Madam Pomfrey's arrival. I thought you said that you didn't get along with her?" 

"I don't." Confusion gave way to annoyance and he waved his hand dismissively. "She's from mother's first marriage. Celeste never stayed with us- Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel took her in as a favour to mother. Father sends her money every month to keep her away." 

"I didn't know your mother was married before." 

He grimaced slightly as his annoyance at her line of questioning grew. "To some Mudblood. Father doesn't like us to speak about it." Draco reached for his father's letter, stopping before opening it and looking up at Sycorax. "This is private. Leave." He fixed her with his unwavering grey gaze. 

"Well, I-" She seemed too shocked to phrase a sentence. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. "You have absolutely no regard, Draco." Sycorax's voice was cool and hard, like her greyish blue eyes. "I am trying so very hard to be your girlfriend-" 

"You already are, Sycorax." 

Her usually collected self cracked slightly as she stood up. "It certainly doesn't seem like it. You could at least pretend to-" 

He interrupted her once more, too tired, worried and confused to play their game. Something about his feelings at that moment made him want to lash out and deflate something. "You pretend enough for both of us." _Did Pomfrey give you Veritaserum as well? Sycorax is not going to be pleased at that little gem. _

"I am going to attribute that to the medications." She had gone very white, and the vibrant blond of her hair just seemed more like bleached sunlight. "I'll speak with you when you're in the mood to be civil. _Goodbye." _

_Oh, excellent conversation, Draco. Went perfectly. _

*

_8.12.1997, Monday 2014  
Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts _

"Do you know why I have called you here?" 

Albus' blue eyes gleamed seriously behind half-moon spectacles. Harry met them with his confused green glance. Slowly, he shook his head. 

"No, I don't, Professor Dumbledore." 

"Harry, I know you had plans of staying here for the Christmas break but-" 

Harry's fingers clenched into a fist. "But sir! I don't want to go back to the Dur-" 

The headmaster raised his hand and caused Harry to become silent. "Let me finish, Harry." He smiled comfortingly, but Harry remained a little wary. "Harry, this is an extremely dangerous time for you. News has reached me that Voldemort's next move is to reacquire you." 

"I thought Hogwarts was the safest place for me." 

Dumbledore sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Hogwarts is a safe place, indeed it is. But I will be absent during the holidays; along with much of the staff- and the safety of Hogwarts alone will not enough to protect you from him. He has become a madman, Harry, obsessed with vengeance on you. The signs have been getting stronger for a long time. In a way, it is lucky, for instead of planning something else, he is concentrating on you." Dumbledore smiled wanly. "Not so lucky for you, however. The time has come, Harry, for you to follow the same path I advised your parents to take. Use the Fidelius Charm and go into hiding." 

"But-" 

"I know such a path is alien to you, Harry, but my only concern is your safety. It will be just for the holidays, you can return to Hogwarts in January with the rest of the students." He paused for a moment. "They need never know." 

Harry looked seriously up at the headmaster, his face pale. The outline of the scar against his skin was more livid than ever, the pains had become much more frequent. "Yes, sir." 

"Then you shall need a Secret Keeper." 

Harry's stomach twisted, his eyebrows knitting in worry. "Sir- whomever I choose as a Secret Keeper- they'll be in as much danger as I am. More." 

He nodded solemnly. "I won't lie to you, Harry. Your Secret Keeper will indeed be in peril, but only if that fact was known. As of today, nobody outside this room knows of this. Once you choose a Secret Keeper, tell only that person of your intended place of stay." Dumbledore pushed a thick book towards him over the desk. "Do not even tell me where you are going! It is possible that I may be captured- and there are many ways of loosening an unwilling tongue." 

Harry opened the book and flipped through the pages. 

"Page 117- I've marked it for you. It gives detailed information on the Fidelius Charm- read it over just to familiarise yourself with the process. I can perform the actual charm. Harry...have you any thoughts on whom you will choose?" 

He narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. "Sirius Black." He said simply. This was his chance to allay every last doubt Sirius had about Harry's trust towards him, and Harry was not going to miss it. 

"He will be honoured." Dumbledore reached out for a quill and parchment. "I will write him immediately. And Harry- tell _no one of this." _

"Yes, sir." The boy tucked the book under his arm and stood up. "Thank you, Professor." 

*

_Monday, 2148  
Outside Ron Weasley's bedroom_

"Ron-," Harry knocked on the door urgently. "Ron, wake up. I need to talk to you." He didn't raise his voice because Dean slept in the next room. 

"_Lumos." A muffled voice said, and light streamed through the slit underneath the door. There was a loud yawn and then the door creaked open to reveal Ron in a red night robe. It looked expensive- Harry supposed it was, for the Weasleys stopped having to worry about money after Weasley's Wizard Wheezes marked the highest profit of any business in Hogsmeade for forty years. "Harry- it's past nine thirty and we have a Council meeting early tomorrow."_

Harry ignored him, shaking his head. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Sure." Sleepiness was replaced by curiosity. He closed the door behind Harry and sat next to him on the large, four-poster bed. "Why weren't you at dinner? We were looking for you- Hermione nearly had an anxiety fit. Course, that could have been because Dean was taking it so casually…" Ron sniggered. "You should have heard her- 'don't you have any concern at all? Isn't he a _friend of yours? 'What if he's…" He tapered off as he realized Harry wasn't listening._

"I won't be able to write you over Christmas."

"Huh? Why?" Ron sounded surprised. 

"I'm not going to be at Hogwarts, Ron." Harry raised a hand to stop his best friend's questioning. "Dumbledore told me not to tell anyone…but I have to tell you. Just don't blab to Hermione, I don't want her to worry."

"Harry, what is it? You're not going off to fight You-Know-Who without us or anything, are you…?"

He shook his head, feeling rather morose. "Just the opposite. Dumbledore wants me to use the Fidelius Charm because most of the staff's going somewhere over the holidays. He said it's not safe for me, because Vol-er, You-Know-Who's after me again. Sirius is coming after everyone leaves…"

"He's going to be your Secret Keeper, then? Bloody hell, Harry, this sounds really serious. Maybe we should tell Hermione…she knows a bit more about this sort of thing."

"No!" Harry's voice was firm. "I don't want her worrying, Ron- I'm going to write a couple of letters to her and you're going to send them to her every week using Hedwig. That way she won't be suspicious."

Ron shook his head and sighed. "Why're you telling _me, Harry? Especially since Dumbledore told you not to?"_

"Well…er, you're my best friend." Harry looked down, the serious bent to their conversation making him a little uncomfortable. On one hand he didn't want Ron to worry, and on the other… "My scar's been hurting a lot more the past few months, Ron. And the nightmares are worse-," he shuddered slightly. "I wanted you to know, just- just in case…" He didn't say it- but both of them knew the end to the sentence. _Just in case I don't come back._

"I don't like this Harry…I really don't like this…"

"It'll be fine- _he only found my parents because of Wormtail. I'm coming back at the start of the term, anyway. Just don't tell a soul." Harry reached over and gave Ron an awkward hug, releasing him too quickly. "I'd better get off to bed. Thanks."_

_*_

_9.12.1997, Tuesday, 1800  
En route to Hogwarts- a letter_

_Harry-_

_Dumbledore just sent me the letter through Fawkes, and I've borrowed him to reply to you so that he won't be intercepted. Phoenixes are much too smart for that, as you know. I'm coming to Hogwarts as soon as school's out and there are less people around. I needed to send you this before because I'm not sure if I could say everything I liked face to face. Somehow, I just get all tongue tied- I've never been the one to be sentimental. It was more James and Remus' thing. _

_I've always been a secret keeper- not in the magic sense, but in the mundane one. I've always kept secrets for James, Remus, Peter and myself. I think most of the secrets have been my own. I would be proud to be your Secret Keeper, Harry, and thank you for the chance to redeem myself. I know James and Lily would have forgiven me for convincing them to change to Wormtail at the last moment- but I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. So, for utterly selfish reasons, I'm glad I can play a part in keeping my best friend's son safe. _

_I sometimes like to think of you as the son I never had, and while nobody can ever replace James, I love you just as if you were my own. I've often wished that I were there for you in the beginning, when you were growing up. Just to tell you what wonderful parents you had- and how much Remus, Mary and I loved you. The Dursleys are only your family by blood, but we're your family by choice._

_You've asked me to be your Secret Keeper, and now I'm going to ask you to be mine. It's very important that you know this, Harry- I've told Dumbledore but I felt this would be better coming from me. Please, please remember this if anything happens to me. I can't explain to you why I never told you before- just take my word that it was because of my work…and because it was too hard for me. I know we've never quite told you about what happened before you were born. It's time we did- I'll tell you about my life and what I know…but I warn you that even my understanding has gaps in it._

_Six months after I graduated from Hogwarts, I got married to the woman I loved. I know she loved me too. Her name was Noelle Vablatsky. She was everything a man could want- smart, beautiful, interesting. In school, she and Mary (that was Remus' girl) had been so close you had to pry them apart to get a minute alone! Fifteen days before our first anniversary, she packed her bags and disappeared. I believed she left me and I hated her just as much as I had loved her. A year after that, Dumbledore told me tha she didn't walk out on me. She left because she was putting me in danger, because one of Voldemort's inner circle had sworn to kill her. And the Death Eater carried out that threat. Dumbledore refused to tell me in the beginning, but he finally cracked and said that a Death Eater called Narcissa Havisham betrayed Noelle to them._

_I couldn't act on it because by then Lily and James were on the run from You-Know-Who- that changed everything. I didn't have time for revenge; we just tried to keep each other alive. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else. We knew there was a spy in our midst- I remember being suspicious of Remus and Mary, even! Finally, the Fidelius Charm was performed- and I told neither of them. That was my greatest mistake. Then the night happened- that horrible night. I supposedly murdered Wormtail- I was sent to Azkaban soon after. I can still see Mary crying outside my cell before I was taken to Azkaban- the only other time I can remember her crying was when I told her Noelle was dead. I remember her turning to Remus and saying,  'James, Lily and Peter were murdered by the person they trusted with their lives. I can't believe in anything any more, Remus. Goodbye.' And then she walked out. I can remember it down to the last detail- because it was the last time I saw my friends for thirteen years or because it hurt so badly that they thought I was capable of such a thing._

_Remus left Britain after that, he told me he traveled all over Europe and Asia looking for some kind of peace. He didn't come for you because the Ministry wouldn't let a werewolf take care of a child. Mary Moran threw herself into her career- she's a professional Quidditch player. I think she plays for Ireland now. I don't know. She refused to see any of us. Even though she knows I didn't betray your parents- Peter did, and she trusted Peter. What happened changed her the most. But before it happened she loved us all- you most of all. Mary still does…she's just very afraid of showing it in case she gets betrayed again. I can't blame her._

_That entire story's point was this- if anything happens to me, Noelle's parents Grigory and Cassandra will fill my shoes. They're wonderful people, they've seen you as a baby. I know you'll like them- and they're much better than the Dursleys. My Gringott's vault will get keyed to you if something goes wrong. I know nothing will go wrong because the entire Order is focussed on protecting you, but it's best to be prepared. Don't take any unnecessary risks before I get there. _

_Till I see you,_

_Sirius_

_*_

_19.12.1997, Friday 1010  
Vault #713, Gringotts Wizarding Bank _

Albus Dumbledore straightened his cloak and hat as he dismounted from the cart, feeling inordinately glad to be on motionless ground again. The Gringotts goblin- Griphook- gave Dumbledore one more piercing glance before striding up to the door of vault #713 and stroking it gently. It melted away, as it was meant to, and sixteen expectant faces turned. Fawkes sailed into the room and took up his perch. Dumbledore stepped in and nodded gravely at Griphook. 

"I'll wait outside for four knocks." 

The goblin repeated the stroking motion to apparently empty air and the door reappeared. There was seating- a rectangular table with sixteen chairs and three fireplaces built high so that the faces inside them could be seen. A life-sized golden statuette of a phoenix was the dominating centrepiece. The clock hanging on the wall chimed and the large hand moved to 'Time for the Meeting'. Almost immediately, the fireplaces blazed to life and a face appeared in the first one. There was a flurry of activity as the wizards and witches took their seats, leaving their wands on the table in front of them. 

"Welcome, my friends, to the Order of the Phoenix." It was Dumbledore who spoke, even though he remained seated. The seats themselves were quite high, making conversation easier. "I think we should start by hearing reports- Madame Maxime, since you appeared first, why don't you begin?" He turned and smiled at the visage in the fireplace. 

"Thank you, Dumbly-dorr." Her voice echoed thickly in the room. "The Giants are even fewer than we expected- many of them have migrated outside of the normal area. We 'ave been reduced to negotiating with them individually, which is why this task 'as taken two and a 'alf years. So far-" She paused and looked down, obviously consulting her notes. "Most 'ave pledged neutrality. We 'ave 'ad a few close calls with giants who are vehemently on the Dark Side, but an almost equal number 'ave consented to join with us. There remains fourteen giants whom we 'ave to confer with. Hagrid and I 'ope to be back by the summer." 

There were a few murmurs at the news, but they were silenced when Dumbledore spoke. "How are the both of you?" 

"We are doing as well as can be expected, Dumbly-dorr." 

"Thank you." He swiveled slightly to face the others at the table. 

Doris Crockford shook her head. "This entire thing makes me worried, Albus. From the looks of it, he'll have a few giants on his side- the vampires and hags have always gone with him-" 

"Not to mention the trolls, banshee, most werefolk, dementors...and who can forget those advance teams of Veela? They'd distract our teams and then the entire squad would be slaughtered while they were in the haze." Dedalus Diggle shuddered. 

"You-Know-Who's always had the Dark Creatures on his side. The goblins, as we can see from their allowing us to hold a meeting in Albus' Vault, are on our side. The elves and faeries are violently opposed to Dark Magic, but won't 'draw steel' with us." Sirius Black imitated the high, solemn elven voices. "The dwarves were always carefully impartial." 

"Too bad we can't find the Erivalli. They'd be really useful." Cuthbert Turpin mumbled thoughtfully. It was too true- the Erivalli's healing powers would be sorely needed soon enough. 

"We cannot find the Erivalli unless they _want us to find them- they are well known for their Conceal-" _

Albus Dumbledore stopped Remus Lupin as a face appeared in the second fire. "Her!" Sirius stood, his face contorted in unadulterated hate. "What is that murderous bitch doing there? Dumbledore!" 

"Sirius. Sit down." His voice was hard and to be obeyed. "The events which you are angry about happened a long time ago. I understand your pain, but now is the time to think beyond it. For the good of the entire wizarding world you must swallow your own grief." He spoke to Sirius but his eyes were on Grigory and Cassandra Vablatsky as well. Apart from a slight slackening of facial muscles, the two gave no outward indication that anything was wrong. 

"Welcome, Narcissa- I'm sure you know most of the faces around the table. For those who don't know her, Narcissa Havisham-Malfoy is one of our deepest-cover spies." Dumbledore turned back to her concernedly. "How much time do you have?" 

Narcissa Malfoy's face turned quickly, to check behind her, and grimaced. "I don't know- fifteen minutes to half an hour." Her pale eyes glistened and flicked between Sirius, Cassandra and Grigory. She seemed to want to say something, but decided against it.

"What do you have for us?" 

"Mostly it's just rumour and speculation- only the innermost of the inner circle have some knowledge of. I'm not even sure Lucius knows everything, and he's his right hand man." She took a deep breath. "Right now, the Death Eaters are all focussing on getting Harry- but the Collective doesn't care about that. _They have something very, very big planned...and Voldemort-" There was a suppressed shudder around the table as she said his name. "-has to go along with it. It's something that will shake the world- shake it into chaos and open the doors for the Collective's takeover. It's going to happen later- after April or May..." _

There was a hush in the room after she finished- the words 'world', 'chaos' and 'takeover' echoing in every mind. 

Arabella Figg broke the silence, banging her little fist on the table. "We cannot allow this to happen, Albus- whatever it is." 

"We need more information." Vidya Patil, the ex-Minister of Magic for India, spoke slowly. "There is too little to go on..." 

"Severus Snape will be joining us later in the meeting...if he can. It is quite possible he will be able to furnish us with more information." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "We shall leave discussion of this matter till then. Arthur, tell us of developments at the Ministry?" 

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. "Things are going even worse than expected- Cornelius Fudge plans to officially deny that You-Know..._Voldemort has risen again next week. And the other Ministries of Magic take their cue from Britain because this is our problem." He leaned forward in his chair. "And Underminister for Magic Lucius Malfoy isn't helping any. Fudge is losing popularity among the people- something that would be good for us except for the fact that interim Minister for Magic would be Lucius Malfoy." _

There was a buzz of outrage at this. "But surely, Arthur, there is some way we can stop Lucius Malfoy from gaining power. This is an electorate, after all." Mundungus Fletcher's lip quivered with ill-disguised anger. 

"No." Gilbert Wimple, another Ministry man, answered instead. "Underminister is an appointed position and completely at the discretion of the Minister for Magic. Cornelius Fudge chose him and there's nothing we can do about it." 

"Not about him being interim Minister- but we can surely do something about the elections. Educate the people, get the news out about _him." Minerva McGonagall was flushed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "It's ignorance we have to combat."_

"We've already started printing our own daily newspaper- _Veritas because the Daily Prophet's editors are all bought off. Some of the Prophet reporters have come to us and we're printing every single piece of evidence we've got…"_

"That's a good step." Minerva nodded at Doris. "We must make sure Lucius Malfoy is not elected." 

Hagrid spoke from next to Madame Maxime in the fire. "'e wouldn't be if Albus Dumbledore stood against 'im in the 'lections." 

"If Lucius Malfoy becomes interim Minister, I doubt there _will be elections." Dumbledore blushed slightly. "But thank you for the vote of confidence, Hagrid." _

"Yeh've got everybody's confidence, sir." 

"How can he stop elections, Albus?" Marian Weasley, Arthur Weasley's elder sister, demanded. "Aren't there laws against those sorts of things?" 

"Indeed. But Lucius Malfoy is brilliant at finding loopholes, and he has a more brilliant man behind him. It is possible to declare a Crisis situation and suspend elections if you have a two-thirds majority in the parliament with you." Dumbledore's forehead creased. "And they have no reservations in using extreme methods to gain that majority." 

"Dumbledore?" He turned sharply as the last fire blazed- a blurry figure in black appeared. Severus Snape looked behind him and then back at the fireplace, looking even more pallid than usual. Lines of worry creased his face. The picture blurred even more and a static noise assaulted the ears of the listeners- either the charm had been badly cast or Snape was in an area with high magical interference. 

"We are here, Severus."

"You…try and stop…in July…his birth-," The static made many of the words unintelligible- every wizard at the table leaned forward to hear more clearly. Snape was talking quickly- it was obvious he didn't have much time. "The Collective is…highly organised…must stop it…the Purge… of the muggle…catastrophic proportions…the Countdown to the…Hogsmeade and…to the sympathisers…" He stopped abruptly and turned once more, leaving the fire empty as he walked to the door and checked it. 

His face returned, slightly puzzled. "Sorry- thought…heard someone…Dumbledore you must…all synchronised…the Fires…weeks…Astarte's plan…total surprise and…ministry…have to save the…"

The sound of an opening door was heard in the background even as Snape muttered the spell to put out the fire. "Why, Sarhen, what a nice sur-," were the last words the Order heard before the embers died down. 

"Dear Lord, Albus…this sounds horrifying!" Amos Diggory was the first to react, his eyes flashing. "Don't we have any more sources?"

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Dark Wizards are notorious for their mistrust. It is lucky that Severus has managed to penetrate so far- his sacrifices have been great."

"The Purge…I seem to remember that. I know I've read it somewhere." Remus tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

"I should hope so, young man." Arabella Figg had gone white, her lips pinched together. "The Purge was the course of action Grindelwald was going to take before Albus imprisoned him and what that muggle Hitler's Final Solution was based on. Grindelwald didn't have the idea first either- Salazar Slytherin was the one who first spoke about a Purge of Muggleborns from Hogwarts."

"And we all know Grindelwald was Riddle's mentor." 

Xiomara Hooch furrowed her brow and leaned back stiffly. "So what exactly _is the Purge, then?"_

"It's just a cleansing of the Wizarding Race. Slytherin thought in terms of banning muggle-wizard procreation and sterilisation or termination of all remaining Muggleborns and halfbloods. Grindelwald's Purge was meant to exterminate the entire Muggle population…who knows what Voldemort's idea is!" Fletcher said. "But we can take some basic precautions…security and the like."

"Arthur- did you hear the name that Severus said just before the fire burned out?" Sirius' eyes looked suddenly serious. "Sarhen."

Arthur Weasley's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh God- Sarhen _Lestrange…Jean Lestrange's wife." He softened his voice- everyone knew the Blacks warranted hate towards the Lestranges._

Arsenicus Black had been one of the best Aurors of his time- and he had once arrested Laure Lestrange, Jean's mother, for Muggle torturing and thrown her into Azkaban. In retaliation, her husband Yves had brutally raped and murdered Arsenicus' eleven-year-old daughter. Yves was never arrested because of lack of evidence, but Arsenicus had hunted him down and killed him in cold blood. After that, he turned his wand on himself. Sirius had been eighteen years old.

He showed no outward sign's of emotion. "They're in Azkaban…I heard Jean Lestrange screaming for his mother when I was in there. But if they're in Azkaban…how is Snape talking to them? What about the Dementors? What does this mean, Professor Dumbledore?"

"It means Voldemort has taken Azkaban."

*

_Friday 1712  
Platform 9&3/4, London _

The Platform was a heaving, writhing mass of wizarding humanity. It seemed every single parent had come to collect their child personally, not to mention the many that had brought their entire families along. As always, there was a redheaded group huddled together- but this year it was much smaller. Percy was far too busy in his Ministry job, Bill had become an Unspeakable and was engaged in some top secret mission, Charlie was missing and Molly had been murdered two years ago. 

The conductor aboard the Hogwarts Express blew his final whistle and the doors flew open. Students began streaming out, tossing trunks and baggage to relatives on the platform. There was a muffled scream as someone's owl twisted free of it's cage and swooped down, capturing a toad in its talons. There was another high-pitched yell as Neville Longbottom pointed mutely to the offending creature. 

"He's got Trevor!" 

Back inside the Express, Draco Malfoy set down the research papers Hermione had given him with a curse. Trying to read them on the jerky ride had given him a headache, which was intensified by Crabbe and Goyle's stupid antics. Sycorax was staying at school because her parents were supposed to be in Azkaban and the Dark Lord didn't want Dumbledore to even _suspect that Azkaban had been taken over. _

He stood up, nodding for Goyle to take his bags. Draco was actually pleased to be going home- there were less people to deal with there, and most of them were his servants. He didn't have to even _think about that showoff Harry Potter and his fan club, or Dumbledore trying to see into his soul. Draco shivered involuntarily- Albus Dumbledore made him uneasy. _

Out in the passage, he saw Seraphine Malfoy exiting her compartment. She smiled and sped up to walk by his side. "Are you coming to visit us at _la Chateau Malfoy for Christmas?" She asked rapidly, in perfect French. "Mama is having a party- all the important people are coming. The Lestranges, the McAllistairs, the Notts, Severus Snape, the Averys, the Bulstrodes, the Crabbes, Sibyl Trelawney, Walden MacNair, the Dela- er- the Lupins...along with the rest of the Malfoy family." _

"I'm quite sure I don't know. Mother always informs me rather late, you see." Draco drawled, smirking at his cousin. It was quite a shame really- despite her Veela blood Seraphine was not as striking as Fleur, or as sensual as Sycorax. She looked more like her human-blooded father than her supernaturally beautiful mother. _Of course, that might be because her brother stole all the good looks in the family. "Though I mightn't have time for silly parties these holidays. Father has some more important things planned..." He allowed the words to drop off his tongue with just the right nonchalance and was rewarded by Seraphine's blue eyes lighting up with admiration. _

She gasped, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You mean you're going to meet _him- the great Dark Lord?" _

"Maybe." 

They stepped onto the platform together as Goyle brought both their bags. "Seraphine! Over here _ma petite." A tall, rather handsome young man who looked very much like Draco waved enthusiastically to catch her attention. He was wearing black robes, well styled and of a thick, expensive fabric. A few of the Seventh Year girls gave Seraphine dirty looks. _

Her face broke into a wide, very un-Malfoy smile as she ran up and embraced him. Draco rolled his eyes. "Enough with the displays of affection already. Hello Valoir." 

"Draco." The elder boy regarded him with a cool diffidence after he released Seraphine. "I trust your term was pleasant." 

"It was godawful, Valoir. Too many muggle sympathisers and traitors...but then, what can you expect from Dumbledore's school?" Draco narrowed his eyes just a little, holding the gaze levelly. "Where's my mother? She always picks me up." 

"Yes, there's been a slight change. Uncle Lucius asked my parents to convey you home. They're waiting outside- you know they hate such crowded places." He spoke easily, but Valoir's eyes seemed a little shifty. 

Draco shook it off as paranoia. "Goyle, Crabbe- I'll see you back at school." He turned slightly and nodded at them. With some effort, he lifted his bags and shifted them more comfortably on his shoulders. "Let's go then." 

They walked briskly through the portal and emerged into the Muggle station. Draco's aunt and uncle were easily recognisable in the crowd- they were both blond and expensively dressed. It was quite obvious that his aunt was a Malfoy while his uncle was not; she had silvery hair, electric blue eyes and the same set of features that Draco and her children possessed.

As was the custom in the Wizarding World, the children were given the surname of the parent who was more powerful. While Michael Chaddingworth was powerful in the Muggle world- he had close blood ties with the monarchy- in the Wizarding realm his bloodline couldn't be traced back three generations. The Malfoys, on the other hand, could follow their ancestry all the way back to the Founders themselves. 

Muggles and Wizards alike turned to stare at Ariane Laureus Malfoy- she was breathtakingly beautiful. Even more so than Fleur or Sycorax, or even Valoir or Draco. Veela blood ran thicker in her veins, and manifested more because she was a woman. Her mother- Draco's grandmother- was a Veela. She had run away when Armand Antonius had died, probably rejoined her troupe in Brazil. Veelas were immortal, being Dark creatures, though it was unusual for them to remain bound to one man for such a long time. 

"_Bonsoir, Aunt Ariane, Uncle Michael." Draco greeted, smiling charmingly. __I hate relatives. "How are you this evening?" _

"Simply awful, Draco." Michael Chaddingworth said in his upper class Oxford accent. "You'd think Hogwarts would manage to get a platform away from the Muggles, wouldn't you? Can't even bring the house elves. I mean, isn't Dumbledore making enough with the place?" He paused long enough to give Seraphine a perfunctory hug. "Good to have you home, of course." He added absently. 

"You must be glad to get away from Hogwarts. I know Seraphine always is." Ariane didn't offer to lighten her daughter's load. "Come along, the car's outside. It's _such a shame Karkaroff took off when he did, leaving Durmstrang in such a state. Complete upheaval to shift Seraphine to Hogwarts. Still, where else could we take her? The only other schools that accept transfers are those American ones, and no daughter of mine is going to grow up with __that kind." She reached out and pulled Draco closer with a firm hand. "Careful of the Muggles, dear." _

The couple that she 'rescued' Draco from smiled, and he had an odd sense of deja vu. "Are you returning from Hogwarts, too? We're picking up our daughter from there." 

For a few moments nobody answered, unsure of how to talk to them. Draco was quite sure that they _were Muggles- their kind had a certain smell about them... Finally Valoir, who was the most courteous, cleared his throat. "We're picking up my cousin Draco Malfoy and my sister Seraphine Malfoy. Seraphine's in her Fifth  Year and Draco's in his Seventh." _

"Really, so's my girl-" He paused for a moment. "-she's mentioned a Malfoy a fair few times. That would be you, eh?" 

"Erm, probably. What exactly did-" 

"Ah, there she is-" The tall, greying man smiled and waved as the entire Malfoy clan turned to look. 

"Granger." _Oh, this is just perfect. I knew I recognized that bloody hair. _

"Malfoy, what are you doing talking to my parents?" Hermione strode forward from the barrier just in time to avoid Ron and the Weasleys crashing into her. Her eyes flicked briefly towards Ariane, Michael and Valoir, but turned back to him accusingly. "Were you trying anything?" She demanded, quite unnerved by the Malfoy clan surrounding her Muggle parents.

"Hermione, dear, Draco and his family were just talking with us." Dr Anne Granger was rather taken aback at her daughter's unprovoked hostility. It was quite obvious Hermione had not told her of the disdain with which some wizards held Muggles.

Ron and Ginny both came over, standing close to Hermione. "What's going on?" The tall boy glared at the entire Malfoy entourage with open hostility. His patience with them had been severely limited after the death of his mother and the subsequent disappearance of his brother Charlie.

"Nothing is going on." Anne Granger sounded quite annoyed. "Honestly, we're all trying to have a civil conversation. Robert, I think we should leave. Hermione?" She turned slightly and smiled at the Malfoys. "We're terribly sorry about this."

Ariane and Michael remained suspiciously quiet during the entire episode, almost as if they were holding their breaths. Ariane's hand was on her wand pocket, as if she was waiting for someone to give her an excuse to curse them. 

"That's a good idea, Anne." Arthur Weasley interposed quietly, taking Dr Granger by the arm. He had been made head of the Muggle Disinformation Department and was quite eager to avoid a scene. "Let's go." 

Hermione glanced back once at Draco, but said nothing. It was as if the air thinned as the Weasleys and Grangers left, making it possible to breathe again. 

"Those Muggles." Ariane glared around at the profusion of non-magical peoples. "One can't decide whether one should even _address them." Her voice lowered. "If it wasn't for our Lord's strictest orders, I'd have cursed them the minute they __spoke to me." _

"Orders?" 

"Yes." Ariane started to walk briskly, expecting the others to follow her pace. "It's quite exciting, really. Master is planning something _enormously huge- it will shake the entire world and herald his new rise to all. But-" She placed a finger to her lips and smiled. "That's all I can tell you for now. You will be made aware when the Lord sees fit." _

"Is that why mother isn't here to pick me up?" 

Ariane glanced at Michael for a brief moment. "Er- perhaps." 

A servant, uniformed in a deep red with black piping, stepped out of the car. 'Car' was hardly enough to describe the magnificence of the vehicle. It was large, heavy and painted a deep black; despite its bulk it was sleekly streamlined with gentle curves over the wheels and fine, neat work on the windows and doors. A dark green line incised the black metal flesh just below the silver door handles, running the length of the Cadillac. Mounted on the front was a silver ornament- the Malfoy coat of arms- a dragon, wings unfurled to either side and snout pointing towards the left perched on a triple-crested shield with a three pointed flag protruding from the left side. An ornate 'M' looped around the shield, becoming a part of it.

The servant nodded seriously to Ariane and Michael, his brown eyes resting for a moment on Draco before he opened the door and stepped back unobtrusively. Draco allowed Seraphine to enter first, letting Valoir take his place in the middle so that he could have the window seat. 

It had become quite a habit with him, to look out of the window on his ride back home. What he enjoyed most was the fact that people continued with their lives completely unaware of his eyes on them- their reality was unchanged by him. The minute anyone heard his name, they subtly adapted to incorporate the change. Whether it was hatred, in the case of the Gryffindors and Dumbledore supporters, or fear, in the case of the Slytherins, or even greed, in the case of the many who lusted after his family fortune. 

A little smile curved on his lips as the car gently accelerated forwards. The Malfoy family fortune was indeed extremely vast and _extremely inaccessible. Most of the money was tied up in investments, the diversity of which only Lucius and a magical accounting genius by the name of Andre Medoc knew. Quite a large sum was set aside for appropriate charitable contributions- Lucius called them his 'Decency Donations,' for as long as he paid them he would remain 'a decent chap.' Money had an astonishing way of inducing amnesia of unpleasant events. There was a good-sized heap of Galleons in Gringotts, but Lucius had made it quite clear Draco would only be taken there after his eighteenth birthday. Most of the money, however, was in secret accounts in Switzerland, to be utilised for matters that were not for general knowledge. _

"Are we going to Malfoy Manor?" 

Ariane quirked her lips slightly at the mention of their ancestral home. Lucius, being the only sane male heir had been offered the Manor first. Of course, the Malfoy chateau in France had been given to her instead. Still, it was something that Ariane was still slightly annoyed about, for she dearly loved the Manor. "Yes, Draco. Those of us that cannot journey to Azkaban without arousing suspicion have taken up residence there, I'm afraid you'll find it quite overrun." 

"Mother- is it safe to talk so freely?" Valoir asked, slightly surprised. 

Ariane smiled- and even though it was a smile of smugness rather than happiness, her face lit up and eyes glowed a deep blue. "Michael and I have so many Concealment, Sealing and Anti-Surveillance charms on this car it's a wonder she hasn't overloaded." 

"I mean-" He quickly glanced in the direction of the chauffeur who had opened their door. There was no partition between the two sections; Ariane was just turning around to speak with them. 

"Oh." Ariane's smile widened further. "This is Jaric Giles from the Collective. He's merely here to observe, report back and blend in with our lives- he's a Watcher. The Collective has dispatched a Watcher to a few key members the world over. Lucius lent him to us for the day." 

Jaric turned, burning into each of them with his coal black eyes. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." He said stiffly, his voice scratched as if he didn't speak often. He turned back to driving and Watching, which seemed to be his primary virtue. 

Ariane turned back to them. "Isn't he simply a _scream," she mouthed. _

The drive was long- taking a good one and a half hours before they reached the little town of Welwyn Garden City. It was peaceful enough, with one hospital, one public school, and one small pub. There was a large shopping mall- along with a smattering of small shops and businesses. There was a lot of greenery- WGC could have been the poster-town for the tranquil hilly English countryside. It was just 60 miles North of London if one took the I18, but far enough so that nothing too astounding happened there. 

The Cadillac sped over the smooth road until, quite suddenly, it turned into what seemed to be a solid wall. A moment of dislocation and then they were in a small dead end alley. It was clean, with a large gleaming steel dustbin on the left and a small grungy window to the right. The Cadillac stopped. Ariane stepped out and muttered an incantation over the window. With a small, annoying pop, it opened to reveal the Malfoy emblem in fine-fashioned whitely gleaming silver. She held her hand over it, each finger touching specific points. The entire symbol began to glow- the small dragon came to life and leapt out of the ornament, settling on Ariane's shoulder. 

There was a dull grating sound and the entire dead-end wall slid out of place. The Malfoy grounds could be seen though a thin, semi-transparent veil. Jaric Giles revved the engine and quickly pushed through the spatial dislocation barrier into the scene, for Malfoy Manor was not really in Welwyn Garden City at all. The actual location was a closely guarded secret, as were the seven access points. Welwyn was just one of the two in England, there were five others in foreign countries to which the Malfoys frequently traveled. The Manor itself was connected only to an internal Floo Network that allowed access to every Malfoy residence the world over, and the Grounds had a single guarded Apparation point further away from the Manor proper. 

The living-silver dragon bugled and lifted off, flying slowly in front of the car. It was a magically created Guide- disarming the charms and enchantments ahead and renewing them behind the Cadillac. The Guide had been magically taught to recognize those who were permitted entry into the Malfoy grounds- the rest were led into a prison. 

The grounds themselves were vast- lawns lolled to either side of the driveway and carefully cultivated flower patches lined the grounds. The flowers themselves were beautiful- tulips, begonias and the like- all charmed to gleam silver. The lawns suddenly stopped, falling sharply into a rocky cliff-face that dominated the southwestern part of the grounds. A churning sea beat against it, the pounding waves interlaced with the hoarse cries of seagulls. 

The manor was built higher up, on strategic ground where one could see in every direction. It was large and sprawling, made entirely out of wood. The roofs sloped gently, and were tiled a mossy green colour. The walls were not painted, and the grain of the white wood showed. A thin greenish smoke blew out of the chimney. There were several peripheral buildings dotting the greens- the Lady Ravenna Malfoy Library, the Armand Antonius Skygazing Facility, the Malfoy Moratorium, the Salazar Slytherin Memorial Building, the Laureus Malfoy Portrait Gallery. 

Interspersed with these were the famous Malfoy Rose Gardens, which grew the only variety of Chinese Dragon Rose still in existence. Further back, just before the woods, were the Stables to the West and the Endless Labyrinth to the East. It was said that the Malfoys had abandoned traitors inside the maze for centuries, just to observe them wander lost and starving with magical means. Nobody except Lucius Malfoy had ever entered the Maze and come out alive, but that was because Lucius had known how to escape. Hidden underneath the maze were the torture chambers and cells, which were accessible from the main house. 

But the cleverest secret of all in Malfoy Manor was the fact that nobody actually lived in it. 

The real house was build under the upper Manor, and had Magical deflection charms on it. The Ministry, monitoring only the house above, would never imagine anything sinister going on and the Malfoys could continue their lives untroubled. Even when it came to surprise searches, they never found anything because they were looking in the wrong place. 

"You go on in, Draco. There's a meeting in the Library that we have to attend." 

Draco glanced sharply at his aunt. "Seraphine and Valoir as well?" 

"Yes. Lucius firmly stated that you were not to be present." She now looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, darling, but it's your father's orders..." 

He suppressed the desire to roll his eyes and hoped that Seraphine wouldn't think he had been excluded because he wasn't to be trusted, especially after his boasting about meeting the Dark Lord. "Thank you for picking me up. _Au revoir." _

Draco slid out of the car and strode to the entrance. He didn't even have to knock; a ghost dressed like a butler opened the carved wood door immediately. "Welcome home, Master Draco." He said solemnly. 

He hated being called Master Draco, but supposed that it was better than Master Malfoy…or God forbid, _Lord Malfoy. _

"Good to be home, Darius." 

"I have already opened the other entrance for you, sir. Please, walk this way." 

A portion of the wall was open, revealing a gaping hole and marble staircase. Draco quickly walked down it, and Darius closed the entrance by pulling the large, heavy looking Quidditch trophy that had been tipped at a 45-degree angle, straight. 

The marble courtyard was pure white and grey- a huge crystal chandelier hung above a central table made of solid silver. It was extremely old- a Malfoy heirloom- encrusted with murky emeralds. A handsome, dark-haired woman leaned against it with a casual air, smoking a cigarette. She was unnaturally pale, with dark red lips and fine features, delicate under the heavy silver jewelry she wore. There was an understated power about her, and her fur wraps indicated that she was quite wealthy. 

Her large dark eyes turned towards him when she heard the click of his leather shoes against the stone. She didn't smile, but her tilted her head in a welcoming sort of way. "Hello there, Draco." There was still the faintest trace of a European accent in her tone. 

"Elizabeth- I didn't know you were visiting with us." There was a fractional hesitation before Draco smiled in greeting. 

Darius wafted down the staircase and bowed deeply. "Is there anything one desires, Countess Bàthory?" 

"A Bloody Mary would be excellent for my purposes, Darius." The butler bowed once more and disappeared. 

Elizabeth took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose. She dropped the stub from her hand and crushed it on the white silk carpet with the sole of her Gucci slipper, uncaring of the burn damage she had done. She pulled the wrap closer around her and undulated towards him with a languid air. "How has school been?" 

"Hell, as always." Draco raised one eyebrow and smiled- he always did like Elizabeth Bàthory. "The Mudbloods are practically running the place, Elizabeth." 

He was rewarded with a tinkling laugh. "Indeed." She pursed her lips and regarded him, a little affronted. "And how many times have I told you it's _Erzsebet, not Elizabeth. Wind your tongue around some Hungarian." _

"Erzsebet." He muffed the pronounciation, but it was quite a difficult language. 

"Ah- but your blood comes from the French side of our family. I should not be surprised." She smiled, displaying two rows of white teeth, perfect except for slightly elongated canines. 

He had never quite understood how Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess, was related to the Malfoy family. She was Hungarian, a noblewoman related closely to the King. Historians calculated that over her long and cruel reign she had murdered over 650 servants, mostly young women. Lucius had once told him that she wasn't a Malfoy, but had mothered a Malfoy child in secret, and therefore become part of their bloodline in the sixteenth century. "I didn't know you were visiting." Draco repeated, slightly curious as to why she was in Britain. 

Elizabeth waved her arm. "It's tourist season at my beautiful Csejthe Castle. I charmed it to look like a ruin, but they still traipse all around it. Last year, one Muggle who claimed to be my descendant actually stole my old diary." She shuddered. "It's awful." 

Darius arrived at that moment, with a tall glass filled with scarlet liquid and ice cubes on a tray. "Your drink, madam." 

She grasped it with her long fingers and nodded. "That will be all, Darius." With a glance at Draco, the butler disappeared once again. 

Slowly, with a cautious precision, she tilted her head and brought the side of the glass to her lips. She opened her mouth wide and bit down- there was a sound of crushing glass for just a moment. A few droplets escaped the glass and fell to the floor. Elizabeth's throat constricted and the liquid slowly started to drain. She curled her lip slightly to wipe the glass fragments from underneath them, and Draco saw the liquid oozing up her long, curved canines. 

_When she asks for a Bloody Mary, she sodding well means it. _

When the glass was empty she stopped, releasing her hold and straightening. Her eyes shone brightly and her pale cheeks were just a little flushed. Elizabeth seemed to be looking for a reaction from Draco. He was quite determined to give her none, and kept his face impassive. She smiled. "Good. At least Lucius has taught you the virtue of keeping your thoughts to yourself." She reached out and patted him on the cheek quickly- her fingers were deathly cold. "It will serve you well in life." 

She sounded suddenly wise and old. It was hard to conceive that Elizabeth Bàthory, who looked in her twenties, was actually over 400 years of age. But that was one of the most well known Vampiric qualities. 

"Do you know where my parents are?" 

"Lucius is at Azkaban...and your mother, of course-" She noted Draco's unknowing expression and stopped speaking. "Didn't Lucius tell you?" She demanded. 

He debated whether to lie, but something about Elizabeth's dark eyes made him tell the truth. "No." 

"Oh hell. Typical Lucius." Her teeth clenched together, there was still a trace of redness around her lips. Elizabeth looked up, as if suddenly remembering his presence. "She's gone to visit with the Macnairs. Lucius should have told you sooner and spared you the disappointment. She won't be home for Christmas, I'm sorry." 

Draco narrowed his eyes. _Mother loathes Walden Macnair...and Christmas is her special holiday. Celeste is visiting… "Elizabeth, I know you're lying to me."_

"Then accept my lies. If I had wanted to trick you, I would. You'll know in time, Draco."

"No." His voice was firm, his grey eyes glittering with determination. "I refuse to be lied to about Mother." Narcissa was perhaps the only person that Draco could talk to, that actually listened to him. Lucius loved him because he was his heir, his friends liked him because of his Gringotts account…Narcissa was the only one who loved him for him.

Elizabeth looked bemused, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Are you going to make me tell you, little boy? Go ahead." 

His features slackened slightly- Lucius had not raised him to be foolhardy. "Please, Elizabeth- you have to tell me. Everyone's been avoiding my questions about her…" His hands clenched and his glance fell to the floor. "Oh God…she's not dead, is she?" He asked, in a very small voice.

She shook her head, slowly raising a hand and placing it on his shoulder. "I told Lucius to tell you. If he shirks his responsibility he cannot blame me for assuming it. Draco," she reached out and pulled his face up, looking into his eyes. "Draco, your mother is in Azkaban."

"Oh." Draco sighed in relief. "Is that all? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"No, Draco. Listen. Narcissa has been taken to a _cell in Azkaban. She is a traitor- she was passing information to the other side. The Dark Lord has yet to decide her fate." Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sorry."_

_Mother is a traitor? Yet somehow it made sense, she had always been more tolerant and open-minded. __Hell, she was married to a Mudblood. He jerked away from her touch, taking a few steps back as he remembered what Voldemort did to traitors. "She's going to get the Kiss, isn't she?" His voice was hollow, laced with desperation._

"It is up to our Master."

"Can I see her?"

"No. Now I have usurped your father's prerogative and told you; it is time for you to show me that you can be a Malfoy. Be strong. I know you love your mother dearly, but as a Malfoy you must love your cause more. We trusted her and she betrayed us, Draco. She betrayed _you."_

_I don't care. "Did Father tell the Dark Lord about her spying?"_

Elizabeth nodded, but hastened to approve Lucius' actions. "It was only right- his loyalty is to his master first and foremost."

In that fraction of a second after the words fell from Elizabeth's lips every ounce of admiration Draco had for Lucius vapourised, leaving nothing but an overwhelming feeling of hatred. In his mind, it was Lucius who had betrayed _them. _

_I'm going to kill him._

"His loyalty should have been to his wife and to his son." His face was stone, smooth white marble, but his eyes accused. "How can you defend him?"

"Do not question me. You have no right. I tried to spare you the humiliation of knowing Narcissa is a filthy, double dealing traitor- be grateful!" Her eyes narrowed, gleaming reddish at him. "I will not be spoken to in that fashion by any being. Don't push me, Draco- you are but mortal…"

"I'm sorry." He was quick to apologise- Draco didn't need the vampiric wrath of Countess Bàthory on his head. "My emotions sometimes take control of my tongue. I am truly grateful-," _…for nothing… "-to you."_

She accepted his words with a sigh. "I should have been slightly more lenient. After all, you are of her blood. But remember- a Malfoy is governed by the mind." She reached over the table to a pack of Yves Saint Laurent cigarettes. "Now, go unpack. I am sure Lucius has made plans to further your education these holidays, and while he is away I am in charge of you." 

He nodded and complied- but had made up his mind to go to his mother, whether Elizabeth Bàthory liked it or not. 

*

_20.12.1997, Saturday 0815  
Draco's room, North Wing, Malfoy Estate_

Draco massaged his temple with a weary sigh, turning the page. For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for asking Hermione Granger to do him a favour. What she had given him wasn't research- it was a doctoral thesis on Dementors, their origins and their effects. It was a good thing she hadn't written it on parchment, because the roll would have been too thick to carry. Well, maybe he didn't regret it all that much. After all, it was interesting to have a stimulating conversation. Crabbe and Goyle didn't have three brain cells between them, he had to be very careful of what he said lest they ran and told his father, and Sycorax, though capable, was not interested in talking.

He scanned the page lazily but sat up once he reached the 'symptoms' section, reading the entire page over. 

_The Effects of Dementors- contd._

_The Alterius Spell is a Dark Magic curse that was more prevalent during the early centuries; no records of its use exist after the 17th Century AD. The Alterius Spell is a stronger variant of the Imperius Curse and only work if used within three days of birth. It changes the outward personality of the child, increasing the potentials of the qualities the spell worker demands. Though laymen call it the Soul-Switcher Curse, this is exaggeration; the Alterius Spell **does not change the soul or basic character of the person. It merely suppresses it in favour of others.  **_

_The reasons for it's discontinued use are varied- but it is mainly because it requires permission from the Triumvirate, which comes at a great and unpredictable cost. The Triumvirate has demanded everything from an interesting story to a human sacrifice for making the course of Fate bend. Apart from this, the curse will immediately be broken if the cursed goes against any of the parameters set by the spell caster. _

_The cursed often suffers from visions from the alternate timeline that would have occurred if he or she had not been cursed, headaches and/or rebellious impulses from the suppressed self. Dementors have a particularly interesting effect on Alterius Cursed wizards. Due to the unique nature of Dementors (who were created for the sole purpose of exploring a wizard's deepest thoughts, as mentioned in The Origin of Dementors) they bring out the worst memories and fears of the alternate self, rather than the cursed one. Exposure to Dementors is extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs as it will have long-term side effects._

_Possible Symptoms: Chronic nightmares- often of the same scenes that were seen when first exposed, increased frequency and intensity of alternate timeline visions, headaches/migraines, unexplained urges or impulses, nausea_

"Master Draco?" Darius' distinctive voice carried straight through the doors, causing Draco to look up from Hermione's work. 

Draco was reluctant to tear his eyes from the page… He could barely believe what he was reading. "Enter," he muttered absently.

The ghost wafted through the door with enviable poise, coming to a halt a few feet from him. "Sir, I have been unobtrusively monitoring the conversations of various guests as per your instructions, and overheard something I thought you would wish to hear immediately." Draco ducked his head, so Darius continued. "Lady Malfoy is to be sentenced on the 31st of December."

Draco nodded slowly, concentrating every ounce of willpower he had not to scream. Lucius had taught him well indeed. "The Dark Lord usually allows his victims enough time to go insane before sentencing them. This hastens my plans considerably…" _I have to get there before they do anything to her… All thoughts of the Alterius Curse vanished from his mind like thawed snow- he had much greater concerns. He opened his drawer and retrieved a quill and a folded up rectangle of thick paper. _

"Tell me about our fortifications, Darius. I must escape from the compound unsuspected and, if possible, unseen."

Draco sighed and poised his quill in readiness to take down his butler's words. On the table in front of him was a detailed map of the Malfoy Estate, creased a little from wear. It was a normal map, exactly like its Muggle counterpart except for the fact that it displayed where the person holding it was. Right now, a green dot was placed towards the northern end of the manor.

"We have a perimeter patrol- no, Master Malfoy, they don't include the woods- seven teams of five wizards each. Ever since the Death Eaters' came here security has been really tightened up, sir. Apart from that, we have random patrols throughout the compound with just one-man teams. The Apparation point is guarded by two of the best guards- Lupin and Bulstrode in the day, Nott and Avery by night. Not to mention the various enchantments your father set up all over the place, Master Malfoy."

_Oh, this is going to be a piece of cake. "The perimeter patrol- do they have a set pattern to their movements? They sound like the easiest bet."_

"They _do have a pattern, sir, but I'm afraid I have been remiss in supplying you with complete information- the Patrol is a canine team. Specially trained crups, sir, vicious to the core." Darius wrinkled his nose in ghostly disapproval. "They refuse to be fed by the house elves- only pureblood wizards."_

He lifted his quill, regarding the drawings of Estate security carefully. "This isn't going to be the hard part, Darius. The fortress of Azkaban will be the hard part." He looked up at his servant, obtusely glad at having an 'adult' presence. _Does he count as adult? Darius was bound to them by magical oath, like the house elves- he had served the Malfoys for generations. He was contractually bound to follow Draco's orders until Lucius returned or gave him specific orders not to serve his son._

"Indeed, Master Malfoy. Azkaban is legendary for it's impregnability."

There was something about the supernatural calm on the ghost's translucent features that lowered Draco's guard. "The Dementors give me the strangest dreams, Darius. Of horrible memories that I never knew existed."

For a moment, the butler did not know what to say or do. He looked straight at his master, something he had never done in all his years of service. "Dementors have the power to bring the greatest wizard to his knees. There is nothing shameful about fearing their kind." 

"No…I suppose there isn't. Though Father says that fear is weakness." He could almost see Lucius Malfoy's pale, cold face as he lectured him. His teacher, his master, his judge, jury and executioner…his _father… And the man he had sworn to kill. His father had once told him that a true Malfoy honours his oaths. __I'll show you how much of a Malfoy I can be._

"Of course, Master Draco." Their brief moment was gone, both slipped easily back into their preordained roles as master and obliging servant. "If I may ask-," he hesitated; it was not his place to question. 

"Go ahead."

"Once you are inside, sir, how do you intent to emancipate Lady Malfoy and depart? More than that, Master Malfoy, where will you go?"

"As to your first question- I simply do not know yet, and as to your second, I will come back _here, Darius."_

The servant raised one pearlescent eyebrow. "I daresay Lord Malfoy might object."

"I shall worry about the _great Lord Malfoy, Darius. You needn't fret about it." He bit his lip and slumped back into the cushioned chair. His pale fingers clutched his forehead and he closed his eyes, deep in thought. A slow smile suddenly spread across his face and his eyes flickered open, glittering maliciously. "Perfect." He breathed to himself. "Darius…I'll need a few things…my Tebo hide coat, jodhpurs and riding boots-"_

"As you wish, Master Malfoy."

*

_21.12.1997, Sunday 0812  
Azkaban, Voldemort's Headquarters_

"My Lord!" Lucius Malfoy burst into the room after a perfunctory knock.

His master was not pleased, but quieted Nagini's annoyed hiss nonetheless. "Lucius…do try and practice those excellent manners your father taught you. What is it?"

"Poltergeist- our spy at Hogwarts- has just sent me more news- master, the accursed one has disappeared." He bowed his head low, thanking Slytherin that he had remembered not to name Harry Potter in front of his Lord. "All efforts to trace his whereabouts have failed."

"_What?" Voldemort rose out of his chair, anger radiating from him. "How? Poltergeist was supposed to have him under strict surveillance! You told me this spy was capable, Lucius…"_

"Indeed, Poltergeist _is, master…this is undoubtedly Dumbledore's doing. He has secreted the boy from us." Lucius bowed low and kept his eyes down. "My Lord, I beg pardon for myself and the spy for allowing him to slip through our fingers. We rely on your mercy."_

Voldemort shook his head and sat down, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "I have already lost _him- I cannot afford to lose one of my best placed spies and one of my inner circle Death Eaters over the same matter. You are forgiven, Lucius, and your Poltergeist as well. But Lord Voldemort has a long memory for failure…I will not be so generous if there is a next time."_

"There most assuredly will not me, master."

"Now I must think. I must find the accursed one- the time draws ever nearer when he will come of use." 

Lucius looked up briefly, avoiding his master's smouldering red eyes. "How will we find him, my Lord?"

"It is a simple matter of playing on the weaknesses, Lucius… Dumbledore and his muggle-loving following all share the same weakness, and we must use this to our advantage. These are desperate times, my Death Eater, and they call for desperate actions." He waved his arm; Lucius bowed once more and slowly moved out. "Leave me…I must think."

*

_22.12.1997, Monday 1732  
Apparation Point, Malfoy Estate_

"Spread them wide, Ms. Havisham."

Celeste couldn't shake the feeling that Lucius Malfoy's guards loved this part of their job. This time, they didn't look like heavily muscled Neanderthals- they were dressed in black robes and spoke with a swagger. _Death Eaters, she thought bitterly. The larger of the two checked her for concealed weapons, taking an inordinately long time about it. He straightened up, looking highly disappointed that he hadn't found anything dubious._

"You were expecting a couple of AK47's and a Kalashnikov, perhaps?" She snapped, noting his look. _You'd think I was a gangster out of some Muggle movie. "Give me a break."_

The sandy-haired one grinned, looking quite affable and Celeste felt like she had seen him somewhere before. He was tall, lean and quite handsome with brown eyes. He looked in his thirties. "Standard procedure, Ms. Havisham. Isn't that right, Bulstrode?" 

"Uh huh." Bulstrode grunted and held his huge hand out. "Wand."

Celeste took a step back, her grey eyes moving from one to the other. "You're not serious?" She received no response. "But I am Narcissa Malfoy's daughter! I see you have your wands, so why not me?"

"Narcissa Malfoy is a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. You should be ashamed rather than proud to have her traitorous blood. The only reason you're being let in is because Lucius has not countermanded his standing order facilitating your entrance each Christmas." The slighter man's congeniality vaporised, his tone curt. "Either we take your wand or you Apparate out, Ms. Havisham. Those are the rules."

Hand shaking slightly, she yielded up her wand. "Can I go now?"

Bulstrode shoved her wand into a compartment and waved his own in front of it. 'Celeste Havisham' appeared on the previously plain label. "Get it when you leave." He glanced at the other man. "He'll take you to the manor. No funny business."

She nodded and followed the guard out, increasing her stride to match his athletic one. It was quite a walk back to the Manor- a good twenty to thirty minutes. There was usually a broom or some kind of muggle car to take her from one place to the other. A few people, dressed like Death Eaters, sauntered down the same path that they were traversing, obviously having come from the Library. Celeste stared in surprise- as a rule the Manor was off limits to anyone but Lucius, Narcissa and Draco. _Looks like this has become Death Eater headquarters… One of the black-garbed people turned as she passed._

"Professor Havisham- I didn't know you were here!" The voice crying out from under the mask was unmistakable- Seraphine Malfoy. A taller Death Eater leaned closer to the girl and muttered a few angry sounding words to her. Without another word, Seraphine turned and continued walking down the path. 

"Stupid girl." A woman's voice hissed, the wind carrying her words to Celeste. "Think before you act. Don't reveal yourself to-"

The guard tapped her on the shoulder impatiently. "Ms Havisham- let's proceed." He waited until she turned and began to walk before following. "By the way, I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself. Lupin. Romulus Lupin." His voice was back to its previous friendly tone.

"Oh- I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I've met your brother Remus quite a few times. He used to teach at Hogwarts, I was told." She nodded, his proximity reminding her just how long it had been since she had been on date with a man. That was one of the problems with being a teacher at Hogwarts. In her opinion, none of them had any sex drive. _Except Ramsey, he was only too willing-, she dismissed that option with a mental snort. Hell would freeze over before Celeste Havisham got __that desperate. "Call me Celeste. Only my students call me by my second name."_

"Fine…Celeste… So how long will you be staying this time?"

Celeste smiled prettily, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. "I don't know. I usually take the Hogwarts Express back to school with Draco, but it depends on my mother, really." She shrugged.

Romulus gave her a slightly incredulous look but said nothing. "Oh. Of course."

"How long will _you be staying, Romulus? – I can call you Romulus, can't I?"_

"Of course, Celeste…I'm staying here for as long as it takes." He said rather evasively. "We tend not to finalize our plans."

"I can understand." She laughed, feeling a lot less antagonistic than before. "But a little uncertainty- it's interesting." 

He sighed rather volubly. "I suppose…but will you be attending the Christmas function at the Malfoy Chateau? My wife and I are both looking forward to it." He emphasised slightly on 'wife'. "I find Ariane throws the most magnificent parties."

"I'm sure…" She replied, her enthusiasm slightly dampened. "But Christmas is rather a family occasion with me. It's really the only time of the year when I see Narcissa."

"Right." Romulus looked straight ahead, keeping silent for a few moments before turning back to her. "If you don't think me too inquisitive- Mrs. Malfoy didn't- er, doesn't- seem old enough to have two grown children. I'm not sure I understand how-,"

"Yes- mother's only thirty-eight." Celeste laughed easily, grey eyes twinkling. "Actually, I'm not quite as old as I look. I'm going to be twenty in a few-," _Eight. "-months' time. Since I teach at Hogwarts, Dumbledore suggested I use an aging potion. So I look about twenty seven- old enough to have authority, in his opinion. It should wear off in a little while."_

They reached the Library and Romulus held the doors open for her. "We can use the Floo intra-Network to get to the house from here." He explained, leading her into an inner room. Celeste tried to ignore the huge stacks of ancient books and the deliciously learned smell that hung about libraries- it would be so tempting just to lose herself in literature. A huge fire burned in the grate and a wizard sat close to it, watchful for Ashwinders.

He stood up and smiled crookedly at the two of them, his gaze resting for a few extra moments on Celeste. "Back on duty, eh, Lupin? And…you could only be Ms. Havisham, am I right?"

"Yes…how did you know?"

"My daughter has spoken of you- you're her Potions professor. And you look too much like a dark-haired Narcissa for it to be a coincidence." His eyes darkened slightly as he mentioned the traitor. "Jean Lestrange- good to meet you." The Death Eaters seemed to assume she was on their side. "So, the underground manor, then?"

"Yes, thank you." She took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped closer to the grate. With a quick motion, she tossed the powder in and the fire crackled. "The Lower Manor." She said clearly.

A few moments and a splitting headache later, Celeste found herself on the carpet in the Atrium of the Lower Manor. She dusted herself off, glad to see that her latest Floo adventure had not caused too much damage to her appearance. Quickening her stride, she made her way to her mother's chambers in the north-west Wing of the Manor.

The large oak doors that led into her bedroom were slightly ajar; Celeste pushed them completely open. "Mum?" She called, raising her voice. "Mum, where are you?" Hearing noises from the dressing room, she moved in that direction. "Dear Lord! Draco, what are you doing here?" 

The silvery-haired boy stopped abruptly, shutting the drawer he was rummaging through with a harsh grating sound. "What are _you doing here, Celeste?" _

"I came to visit my mother, of course!"

Draco looked up abruptly and narrowed his eyes. "You don't know?" _Of course she doesn't know, why else would she be asking? He dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. "Lucius found out Narcissa was a traitor- they've taken her to Azkaban."_

She paled, clutching a chest of drawers for support. "She's _what?" Celeste repeated weakly. "Oh my God…oh my God…they're going to kill her."_

_Show no emotion. "Looks like it." He turned his back to her and clenched his teeth. The last thing he needed was Celeste screwing up his carefully made plans. "They're not exactly known for leniency."_

"How can you be so calm? So cold and clinical!" Celeste accused, loathing filling her like acid and poisoning her words. The amicable exterior melted away in the heat of her fear-fuelled anger. "I never believed them before- but what they say is true. The Malfoys truly are soulless monsters!"

Draco didn't flinch once, though his fingers balled into fists. _Just stay calm. Ignore her. Be a Malfoy. "Are you done?"_

"You don't even love your mother enough to show some emotion!" With deliberate steps, she marched up to him and slapped him resoundingly on the face. "Bastard!"

_Why do the girls always pick me__ to slap? The imprint of her fingers was outlined in lurid red on his pale skin. "Feel better now, Celeste?" He asked, with a sneer. "It doesn't matter to me." Draco shrugged and pushed past her, turning back briefly. "You can stay in Narcissa's room as long as you want- but if you want to keep your head I'd suggest you stay out of the Death Eaters way. Merry Christmas."_

_*_

_Monday 1800  
Shores, Azkaban Island_

"Out for a walk, brother?"

The voice that spoke sounded slightly mocking. They were all supposed to be brothers and sisters- it was the Dark Lord's order. They were His only family; he had said it to them often. Still, there was truth in the nomenclature, for most of the Death Eaters had been forsaken by their own families because of their beliefs.

Charlie Weasley turned sharply, acutely aware of the fact that he was without his mask. "Who is that?"

"Come on, Charles- you've been here for about a month and a half. Surely you should have become more adept at voice recognition." The Death Eater unfastened her mask and tipped her hood back, shaking out her gold hair. "It's a chilly evening to be out of the fortress." 

As if to emphasize her point, a cool wind blew up from the sea and swirled around them. It stung their faces slightly, the salt in the air tingling their senses and ruffling Charlie's hair into a proud lion's mane around his overly pale face. Sunlight rarely touched the island, but lack of it could not have caused his chalky pallor or the worried cast to his fine features. 

He seemed slightly annoyed by her intrusion. "Mrs. Lestrange, I'm so sorry. My mind was somewhere else." He turned back to the magnificent view of waters spreading out to eternity on all sides. The sea raced up to meet the horizon and lost itself in the dreamspun sky, the twilight-tinted azure of the silken expanses merging seamlessly. 

She shrugged, obviously not quite so impressed with the scene. "Where exactly," Sarhen inquired, unable to keep the suspicion out of her tone. But then, she had never liked the Weasley family.

"I was thinking about loyalty…and duty…"

"My, my, truth from a Death Eater. I had fully expected evasiveness…but then, I have little experience with Gryffindors," her grey-blue eyes begged him to flare up. "I should think that the Dark Lord's newest convert shouldn't need to think about his loyalty." Sarhen seized his wrist and pulled back the black fabric of his sleeve, uncovering the symbol of a skull with a snake protruding from it's gaping mouth burned into his skin. 

"This," she whispered, her voice carrying harshly to him. "This is where your loyalties should be, Charles Weasley, burned deeper than the Dark Mark on your skin. It's too late to be having second thoughts, my boy, the Dark Lord has already claimed you as one of his and believe you me, nobody out there is going to take you back!"

Charlie jerked his hand from her roughly, his eyes ablaze with indignation. "My loyalties have yet to come under question, Mrs. Lestrange! The Dark Lord saw fit to grant me the honour of becoming one of his children, and unless you are questioning our Master's capability I see no point to this conversation."

"No, I'm not questioning his capability," she amended rather hastily, not wanting to be seen as doubting Voldemort. "Look Charlie…I just don't like traitors."

"I'm not a traitor. My loyalties are at least as strong as yours."

Sarhen nodded and extended her hand after a brief hesitation. "Then accept my apologies for being so harsh with you. Caution is just my way."

"Accepted." He shook her hand firmly, noting the slight mistrust still in her eyes.

"Right." She pulled her cloak around her more tightly. "I'm going to go inside- it's getting too cold out here. Do you want to come?"

He turned back to the sea and shook his head. "I'm going to stay out here for a while. It's soothing."

"See you later, Charlie." 

He breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and left, his eyes searching the vicinity for any signs of guards. They would not be suspicious of a fellow 'brother' out for a twilight stroll. He strode towards the rocky outcrop that protruded into the sea like a horizontal monolith. He shed his voluminous black robes and pulled off the shirt he was wearing, standing silhouetted in the dying sunlight for a moment. There was no use hiding his clothes- he had a feeling Sarhen would come looking for him soon enough. Charlie retrieved his wand from his pocket and quickly muttered the Four Point Spell; his wand pointed in the North direction dutifully. Charlie glanced at the skyline and slid the wand into his tan hide belt. He shivered with the cold, clenching his fingers as he regarded the black water.

_This is it. You can't back out now. Don't think about what'll happen if you fail…_

Taking a deep breath, he broke into a run and dove from the rock into the frigid water. His head reappeared on the surface a few moments later, hair darkened by the dampness and plastered to the sides of his head. Charlie Weasley took one last look at Azkaban before setting off towards the West, his mind filled with determination. 

Far above, Lucius Malfoy moved away from the tower window and walked briskly to Voldemort's Chambers.

*

Author's Note:

Jaric Giles, the Watcher, is just a little dedication to Buffyverse. No, he's not really a Watcher in the Slayer sense of the word or related to Giles. And that belongs to Joss Whedon and his cronies. Elizabeth Bàthory was actually a sixteenth-century Hungarian countess, and the history that I've mentioned is quite substantiated. That was taken from Britannica, and various sites on the internet. Poppy Pomfrey and Xiomara (someone said that was her name on a Fictionalley ezboard) Hooch are now officially my favourite non-centric characters. Moran was mentioned in GoF as being a Chaser for Ireland and female.

So many people to thank and so little space! Cat Samwise (*hands her a gold medal for being number 1 to review), Rhi/m*l*m (gin n tonic rules! I promise we'll have more in later chapters), Vix (I love Sycorax too, so I guess we can be weird together! *ignores the people with their minds in the gutter*) , LadySanna (all those questions! Hope you found some answers in this Chapter), Emaeghlia (fellow mate aboard the Gin'n'tonic and she of the great reveiws!) Thankyou all!

Extra chocolate chip cookies to Vic/Tinuviel Henneth who picked up my personal Flint.

A very Malfoy-centric chapter! Ah well, there's nothing wrong with seeing a bit more Malfoy, eh? ;) Hopefully this time I'll remember to send in my Chapter properly formatted. I really do apologise about Chapter 02. Actually, if you have a look at it now it's done right…and I was so proud of it too!

Sadly, I have mock exams coming up…and then real ones in May…add to that a huge case of writers block. Though I think I'll get through it soon. Lot's of good stuff coming up in Chapter 4- what Draco's really upto, more on Charlie Weasley…and a nice long stint at Azkaban!

And…the Lord of the Rings movie. Pure, unadulterated deliciousness. Gandalf was amazing, Aragorn was kissable…and let's not forget our favourite elf, Legolas.

Thankyou for reading- do me a huge favour and review!

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This Chapter/Fic is OVER.


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